


Beauty in the Sheets

by Thankyoumissvanjie (caringis_notanadvantage)



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Department store au, Drama, F/F, Fluff, Lesbian AU, Let's just say it's not easy being brooke, Power Dynamics, Smut, a loose perception of time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2020-09-02 09:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caringis_notanadvantage/pseuds/Thankyoumissvanjie
Summary: “Boo, she ain’t for you,”“Wanna bet?”“Sure hoe. You get her to go home with you, and I’ll buy you all shades that RiRi has ever made of them Fenty lipsticks,”“All of them?”“Every goddamn one, Mary. But if yo sad ass walking home alone? You be taking all my weekends for the next three months,”Welcome to the Beauty floor of Bloomingdales in NYC. There's drama, there's bitchin' and there's a whole lotta sex.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the Beauty floor of Bloomingdales in NYC. There's drama, there's bitchin' and there's a whole lotta sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea started mostly as a getaway from 'Notebooks'... But then I fell too much in love with this, to not write it. So enjoy. I probably won't post this as much, as I want to finish Notebooks first. ;) 
> 
> This is mostly a Brooke/Vanjie fic, but expect to see other queens pop up here and there. 
> 
> I wrote this with a lot of help and brainstorming from the always lovely TheArtificialDane. 
> 
> Du er sgu den bedste bro! <3

Working on the beauty floor of Bloomingdales sometimes made high school movies seem like a walk in the park. 

It was cut-throat, deeply divided and very competitive. 

Not only were all the stands and brands trying to lure in the same men and women, who cared enough about their self-image to want to spend thousands of dollars on lipsticks, skincare and eye shadow, but you were also trying to convey the fantasy of being above it all. 

You were untouchable. 

Your clothes, your face and your persona were out of this world. 

Every single person working on this floor was trying to show the world that beauty mattered. 

You had your classic beauties. The forty-something ladies, who worked for legendary brands such as Dior, Tom Ford and Chanel. The grey-haired women, who hadn’t aged since the ’90s. With or without botox.

You had the clinical and uptight blondes of skincare - women so flawless that you didn’t feel worthy in their presence. Their pencil skirts, pretentious lab coats and unclockable skin made them look like queens. 

And then you had the makeup artists that worked for the younger brands. Urban decay, Mac, and Nars. Brands that forced you to think big and bold. These men and women all had large and in charge personalities. 

Their counters always held a special energy, all the makeup artists looking like they were having the time of their life with green eyeliners and black lipsticks. 

It’s not that they didn’t mingle or talk with each other. It was just more that everyone had a group, a place and a certain box that they fit into. 

And these barriers were difficult to wipe out. 

Which was why Nina West, long-suffering floor manager, had decided that she would take them all on a retreat. 

* * *

_The music was loud. There were people everywhere, grinding, moving and dancing. _

_Sweat was clinging to overheated skin, as the temperature of the room was making everything damp and hot. _

_The dance floor seemed to almost be a portal to a different part of the world. _

_A place where nothing was wrong and everything was allowed. _

_And there in the middle of the floor, _she _was dancing. _

_Her short black dress sticking to her body, sinfully hugging her curves as her hands ran all over herself. _

_Her long blonde hair was everywhere, sticking to her skin in odd places. She was glistening, sweat drops running down her neck and creating a perfect path down to her cleavage. The deep cut of the dress toeing that difficult line between sexy and sinful. _

_The six-inch black heels made her tower over everyone. _

_She was a beauty. _

_Angelic and yet devilishly sinful. _

_Vanjie didn’t care. _

_She needed to have her. _

* * *

“Why are we going on a retreat again? Talk me through your process once more.” They were both sitting in her office for their usual 10 am coffee break. How Brooke and Nina had ended up working at the same place, given that they had both gone separate ways in college was a difficult and long story. 

But here they were. The best of friends since high school, and somehow coworkers.

“B. You’re going.” Nina was slurping on her caramel soy latte, giving her the patented “_I am your boss, deal”_ look. A look that was very close to her “_I am your best friend and it is now time for tough love_” stare. 

Both were looks that she gave Brooke weekly. 

If not daily.

“Bitch, I know, but could you tell me why?” Brooke was on the day’s third cup of black coffee. Being a morning person was something she had forced herself to be - coffee and cigarettes were the vices that helped her keep up that particular appearance.

Her long blonde hair was slicked back into a tight bun. The skin was clear and makeup minimal. She wore the standard uniform of a black pencil skirt, white shirt, high heels and lab coat. 

She looked professional. 

Nina was always amazed at how different work Brooke looked in comparison to the one she saw outside of this little micro cosmos that they worked in. 

She knew why that difference was created, but yet, it still boggled her mind.

“To help create and strengthen-

“Bonds between the different counters and coworkers, yes yes. You’ve said that ten times now, but WHY are you forcing us to do this by going to some fancy-ass country club in fucking Albany? Why not just take us out to Olive Garden or something and call it a day?” The fact that Brooke didn’t want to go had more to do with the fact that she was leaving town, something that she didn’t do anymore. 

But she didn’t want to tell Nina that, knowing how her loving and way too accommodating friend would try to figure something out, a way to make it work. 

And well. She hadn’t heard from Patrick in weeks. It would be fine. 

She would be fine.

“Because you wouldn’t be caught dead in an Olive Garden, Brooke.” Which was true. She had expensive taste and she wasn’t afraid of flaunting that. 

“Well no. But I don’t need to create bonds with my coworkers. I have you,” She said it with conviction, hoping that Nina believed her. 

The real reason she didn’t want to create more bonds, was because she didn’t have room in her life for friends. It was way too messy for that. 

“Uh-uh. And I say you need to speak with someone who is not me, Shuga, Katya, Detox or Chad.” The raised eyebrow left no room for discussion, and Brooke tried to cover the pit in her stomach with a smile. 

“I hate you.”

_She really didn’t. _

“You love me.” 

“I hope you’ll talk with Ru about giving me that raise after this,” She said it jokingly, needing to distract Nina, so she wouldn’t catch on to the fact that Brooke was starting to panic a bit. 

“B… You are not getting a raise for going on a three-day paid leave with the rest of your colleagues.” 

“Why the hell not, I am sacrificing my sanity for this. I bet that I could sue for emotional distress,”

“I hate that your ex is a lawyer,” 

Their laughter could be heard outside in the hallway, making people stop and roll their eyes.

* * *

_She was standing at the bar, all by herself, not noticing and not caring that everyone was eyeing her up and down._

_Every man and woman at the club was vying for her attention, _

_But every person who had approached this goddess had all been rebuked with a single raised eyebrow and a tiny shake of her head. _

_Vanessa wanted to try. _

_Needed to. _

_Gulping down the rest of her drink, she squared her shoulders and looked at Silky. _

_“Right ho, imma go and do it,” _

_“Boo, she ain’t for you,” She laughed at her, having seen the blonde on the dance floor and how she had hypnotised Vanjie. That woman was out of everyone’s league. _

_Even Vanessa Vanjie Mateo’s._

_“Wanna bet?”_

_“Sure hoe. You get her to go home with you, and I’ll buy you all shades that RiRi has ever made of them Fenty lipsticks,” _

_“All of them?”_

_“Every goddamn one, Mary. But if yo sad ass walking home alone? You be taking all my weekends for the next three months,” Silky could already feel her weekends clearing up, which made her dream of all that good dick she could be getting herself. _

_“Bitch? You’re on.” The determined look in the small Latina’s eyes did nothing to discourage her. _

_That blonde bitch would never deign to spend time with that small bundle of crazy that was Vanjie. _

* * *

“I cannot believe that Miss Nina is making us do this,” Silky had been complaining ever since they had gotten on the bus. 

The idea of spending a weekend with her Mac hoes seemed amazing, but the uptight bitches of counters A through G? Not so much. 

“Come on Silk, Miss Congeniality just want all us bitches to be less catfigthin’ and more friendly. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, boo,” Vanjie loved Nina, they all did. 

Which was probably why no one had said no to the trip, the only ones staying behind were the newcomers and those unlucky - or lucky, depending on how you felt about a weekend in Albany - to have a shift this particular weekend.

“Lil Miss Vanj, just cause you be happy that you ain’t workin’ a weekend, don’t mean you gotta be all happy ‘bout this. I had plans with my man this weekend and now I gots to do this? No, ma’am.” A’keria was sitting with her head down in her phone, probably texting her momma, to see if her son was doing okay. Her man? That was her son. The mascot of the Mac counter and better at applying a winged eyeliner than any 5-year-old had any right to be.

“Kiki, we going to a resort. There be drinks, hot trophy wives and spa - why that givin’ you a long face? Mama Kiki be taking care of our lil dude. Time for you to let loose!” Vanjie was ready. She hadn’t partied for a while. Not since… Her. 

“Trophy wives? You forgotten all about Miss ‘best night of my life’ already?” Trust Silky to bring that up… Again.

“She ain’t called me back, Mary. And I ain’t waiting for no hoe. Not even _her._”

* * *

_“Listen, my friend over there bet me that I couldn’t make you go home with me. And I gots the next three months of weekend shifts on the line mama, and I ain’t about to lose to big Silk,” Vanjie had always jumped straight into all situations, not caring if she seemed crass or dumb. _

_She decided that the only tactic she had was honesty. The tall goddess in front of her deserved it. _

_“That one is new,” The music was deafening, but somehow, the blonde managed to cut through all the noise without yelling. _

_“So whaddya say?” Vanjie did her signature pretty smile, the one that usually made a no turn into a yes._

_“Hmmm… I’m thinking no,” But not this one._

_“You sure ‘bout that, boo? I got a prepo-prepar... I gots an offer for you, you wanna hear it?” She walked closer, her neck craning as she kept on looking into those perfect smokey eyes._

_“Sure...” She tried to feign disinterest, but Vanjie clocked the excitement in those big blue eyes. _

_She had her. Miss Vanjie still got it. _

_“You lemme buy you one of them fancy pink cocktails, and then I get the time it takes you to drink it to convince you that you need the full Vanessa experience,” Their chests were touching, eyes locked, breaths in sync. _

_“You seem very sure that you’ll be able to do that?” An eyebrow was raised in a challenge. But Alexis Mateo raised no fool, Vanjie knew how to play._

_“I ain’t just sure. Bitch, I know.” Her hip was cocked, eyes wide and a smirk on her lip. She wasn’t scared of a 6-foot tall incarnation of aphrodite. _

_For a second they stared at each other, the music deep and loud around them. _

_And then._

_“Make it a martini. Extra Olives. You get ten minutes.” _

_“Perfecto, Mami,” _

* * *

_“Listen up, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming-” _Nina was standing in front of all of them. She looked like a glamorous kindergarten teacher, trying to keep everyone in sight, while also knowing that it was an impossible task.

“Why does she have to sound like this isn’t mandatory,” Brooke was standing in the back, smoking a cigarette and already regretting that she hadn’t kicked up a fuss about being here. She felt angsty, fearing that her phone could ring at any moment and bring her back to reality. 

“Mama, she is your good Judy, if you don’t know, then none of us does,” Katya shrugged at her taking a deep drag from her cigarette. If you didn’t know any better you would think that the two of them were twins. Both in black clothes, their blonde hair in perfect buns, and glasses perched on their noses. 

Despite their dry sense of humour and ability to run on coffee and smokes for hours, they shared no genes, and the only other thing they really had in common was the fact that they both worked at the same Khiel’s counter. Day in and day out.

_“Now I know that you have all probably already thought of how you will group together in the rooms, but to facilitate new friendships across counters and brands, I have made sure that you will all room with colleagues that you don’t work with on a day to day basis,” _Nina’s words hit Brooke, and it made her heart sink. 

Fuck, she had to deal with someone new. 

“Shit.” 

“Come on Brooke, teamwork. Yay!” Katya’s small hands waved sarcastically in the air, as she laughed in her loud and wheezing way, which always made it difficult to stay annoyed at her.

“Shut up, Katya!” She slapped her on the shoulder, trying to cover the fact that she was smiling. 

“Oh Mama, seeing you talk with a new person, is going to be the highlight of my week. No. My month. I cannot wait to tell Trixie this, she will die!” 

“I hate you.” 

She really didn’t.

“You love me,” 

_“Now given the sheer number of people, some of you will room together in pairs, others in threes and a few of you in fours. I have some lists here,” _As everyone went up to get the lists, Brooke hung back, she knew that someone from her team would grab a bunch. 

They all knew that she hated big crowds and tight places.

And sure enough, Chad walked towards her and Katya with the lists. Scanning the pages her, she felt herself calm a bit.

“Oh, B. At least you only have to deal with one other person.” Chad was always the calm voice of reason, nothing ever faced her.

“Yeah… But I got one of the Mac girls. Vanessa, something?” The name told her nothing. All the makeup girls faded into this lump of… People. 

“Oh, you got Vanjie. She is a feisty little firecracker, honey!” Katya sounded excited, which only made Brooke sigh. 

Fuck, she would have to deal with a talker. Well, this would turn out to be the longest weekend. 

“Yay. Great.” Just what she needed. A young party girl who probably wanted to braid her hair and talk about boys. _Fuck. _

“Come on Miss Hytes, get in the spirit.”

“Katya, I swear, I will kill you with my bare hands,”

_“Now, if you go in help desk, you’ll get your keys and room number. I’ll see you all down here in two hours for dinner. That gives you some time to freshen up and change clothes. “_

* * *

_The loud bang of the door closing was followed by giggles and the sound of bodies tumbling over the wooden floor. Moans and soft whines echoed throughout the large studio apartment. _

_“Oh, fuck,” Vanjie whined, already too far gone. Bella had been all over her, the moment the door to the cab, Uber? Something … had closed. Kissing and biting, her hand finding its way up under her skirt. Teasing her the whole ride, but never actually touching her where she needed it the most. _

_“Not yet,” the breathy words made Vanjie clench her thighs. Fuck, she thought she would give the blonde the night of her life, but it quickly became clear to her that she might’ve bitten off more than she could chew. _

_Because Bella was not playing around._

_Her lips were trailing down her neck, nipping and biting, prompting gasps and moans from Vanjie. The back of her thighs hit something solid, as she was pushed up onto the large dinner table, her t-shirt dress bunched up at her waist in the process. _

_“B, I-I… Shit,” deft hands quickly made work of her dress, pushing it over her head, leaving her in black bra and panties. It made her send a small thank you to her past self that had decided to put on her only nice set of underwear for the evening. _

_The black bra working some magic by making her breasts look way larger than their b-cup while the thong cupped her ass perfectly. _

_Thank you, Miss Vanjie. _

_The blonde took a moment to look her over, while Vanjie did the same to her. She could feel herself getting wetter, as she gazed at the perfect curves and spotless skin. Six feet tall, all curves and muscles. How was the woman real?_

_Beyoncé could fuck the fuck right off, cause there was a new Queen B in town._

_Vanjie couldn’t wait to get her out of that dress. To see what hid behind the black stretchy fabric._

_What the fuck was she waiting for?_

_“Mama, let’s get you out of that dress, huh?” The raised eyebrow told her that she had other plans. She leaned closer and started kissing her way down Vanjie’s chest. Hands quickly removing the bra, throwing it somewhere in the flat. _

_Her lips started sucking at one of her nipples, taking her breath away with the sensation. Her hips moved at their own accord, seeking friction. She felt her nipples harden under Bella’s tongue. _

_Fuck, this bitch did not play around. _

_Her fingers started pinching the other, making her impossibly wetter, her thong soaked all the way through and probably dripping onto the table. _

_Her lips were softly biting the hardened nub, making her moan in that intoxicating mix of pain and pleasure. _

_“How do you feel about the number seven?” It took Vanjie a second to realise that the lips had left her breast and that she was once again looking at her expectantly, her fingers never stopping for a second, pinching and pulling. _

_“I… What?” _

_“I was thinking seven… Yeah, that sounds about right,” _

_And with that she dropped gracefully down to her knees, pulling Vanjie close to the edge of the table. Her lips were slowly kissing their way up her leg, feeling them shake with sheer anticipation. _

_It had been ages since a woman had gone down on Vanjie. _

_Fuck, she was not ready. _

_The blonde pulled at her thong, ripping it apart. If it had been anyone else, Vanjie would have popped off, yelling that this was her only good thong, but this blonde bitch owned her right now. The demonstration of power made her insides flutter with lust and her breath stagger. _

_Fucking hell._

_“You smell good, baby” That voice, all low and raspy. Her hands removed the scrap of black lace that had once been a $40 thong, as her lips inched their way closer and closer. _

_“Please…” Her whine was high and breathy as she could feel the small puffs of air against her skin. Her closed on their own accord, the sensation too much for her. _

_Her hips started to push forward slightly, hoping to finally get some relief, but a hand quickly grabbed her hip, forcing her to be still. _

_She felt powerless. It was frightening, it was intoxication. _

_It was fucking hot._

_The lips were so very close._

_“So polite now, such a change,” the words were mumbled against her skin sending small vibrations throughout her body, she was almost shaking, _

_Fucking hell. _

_“Please,” Vanjie couldn’t recognise her own voice. The tone so high, her need so clear. _

_“Please what? Tell me, Vanessa. What do you want?” The way she said Vanessa, a name no one ever used, almost made her come right then and there. _

_If she didn’t survive this night, at least she died happily. _

_“I want you to lick me,” Her body was so tight, strung like a bow. her toes were curling and fists clenching. She opened her eyes, looking down at those big blue eyes that were like liquid sex. _

_Bella smirked at her and licked a patch of skin on her thigh, the sensation tantalising, but not what she needed._

_“Like that?” Her voice was teasing._

_She knew what she was doing. _

_“No, I-” She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. Her body felt like it was ready to explode, to combust before they had even gotten to the good part. _

_“No? Then what? If you don’t use your words, then how will I know, Vanessa?” Bella made her voice high, sounding confused and so sweet, it would have worked if her eyes hadn’t glinted with mischief. She had Vanjie exactly where she wanted her._

_“Fuck… Pl-please lick my pussy,” She pushed the words out, hoping that she was getting it right, hoping that Bella would just fucking do it. _

_And then her lips were on her. Sucking and licking her centre up to that tight bundle of nerves that made her shiver with the tantalising sensations that made her whole body shake. Vanjies hands grabbed two fistfuls of blonde hair, pushing her closer until she was almost buried in her. _

_It was rough but soft. Too much and not even close to being enough. Her body felt more alive than ever before, her moans getting louder as Bella’s tongue entered her. _

_“Shit, B... “ Her eyes were shut, as she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. Maybe Bella could sense it, as she abandoned her thrusts to suck her clit. _

_That did it. _

_With a silent scream, Vanjie came. Her thighs tight around the blondes face, riding out the waves of pleasure that went through her body. _

_She almost collapsed back onto the table, her body spent, feeling almost woozy coming down from that high. _

_“Holy shit, Bella,” _

_The blonde got up from the floor and pulled Vanjie from the table, their lips meeting in a filthy kiss, none of them minding that her juices were still on her lips. _

_And as Bella slowly pulled away, she looked Vanjie straight in the eye with a challenging gaze._

_“One.” _

* * *

“Oh Vanj, you got Miss Brooke Lynn, the Ice Queen from Khiel’s.” Silk was sniggering as she looked closer at the paper, seeing that she was rooming with some of the people from Armani and Nars. 

“Why I always get the bitches?” Vanjie tried to conjure up an image of this Brooke Lynn, but all she got was one of those blondes in their lab coats, tight buns and glasses. 

This weekend already seemed too long.

“Cause you like them?” Cigarette smoke was puffed against her chin, as Detox looked closer at the list. 

“Don’t need your help, D!” She said playfully, bumping into her hip, sending her tumbling. Her hair was coloured in a bright neon green, which should not have worked with her bright red eye makeup and black lipstick, but Detox always seemed to be the exception to any rules made in the world of makeup. 

“You sure? Cause I know B… Give her some tequila and she’ll… well, just. Trust me,” The smirk on her face told that there were countless stories to be told about her friend, but that she wasn’t going to give them up. 

“Wait, so I’ve got the white girl that is uptight cause she needs a good fuck, cause her man ain’t doing it for her? I would rather talk ‘bout red lipsticks with Instagram teenagers than that - and ya’ll know my feelin’ bout that shit.” Typical, that the other got to room with lots of people and she only got one, and her nickname was Ice Queen. Jesus. 

_Just my fucking luck. _

“Vanj. Just give it a chance,” Trust Silky to suddenly be all positive. She had seen the list, she knew that she would have the pleasure of rooming with the Armani dudes and Plastique over for Nars. 

Typical.

“The shit I do for Miss West, ya’ll. Mary, pray for Miss Vanjie tonight, I might not survive rooming with the uptight sorority girl,” She grabbed her way too big for a weekend trip suitcase and made her way up to the desk to get her key. 

She walked as if she was on her way towards the gallows.

“Bye girl!” Detox smiled knowingly, pretty sure that Vanjie was in for an experience.

* * *

_“Fuck, I… I can’t,” Vanjie was writhing on the bed, hair twisted into a bird’s, as her hands frantically grabbed at the sheets, trying to find something to keep her grounded._

_“One more, babe. I know you have one more in you,” The words were whispered against her lips, the dildo thrusting into her, filling the room with its sloppy sounds. _

_They had fucked on the floor. _

_Bella had ridden her face on the couch. _

_Fingered her against the wall until she came. Twice. _

_Ate her out again on the bed. _

_Then rutted against her until they both came._

_And now Bella was working Vanjie towards the seventh orgasm of the night. Her body was slick with sweat, her eyes closed and head moving from side to side, as she was almost delirious on the endorphins and sensations. _

_Everything shook. Her body, the bed, and what seemed like the whole world, as the unrelenting pace of the dildo coupled with its vibrations slowly dragged Vanjie towards the edge one final time. _

_It was amazing, it was painful, it was everything. _

_“Oh, look at you. Fuck me, you’re hot.” She seemed to do everything at once, licking, kissing and biting. The hand not working the dildo was touching, caressing, and pinching her everywhere. _

_Vanjie could feel it, the way her muscles started to clench, her back tight as a bow lifting off the bed, her eyes fell close as everything because too much. _

_It was all sensation. _

_She could see the edge, so close yet so far away, she just needed that last push. That last-_

_“Come for me. Do it, babe.”_

_That. _

_She screamed._

* * *

Opening the door, she was met by the sight of a small brown-haired girl. She was beautiful in her skin tight jeans and crop top. 

She created quite the contrast to Brooke’s pencil skirt and white shirt get-up. 

If this had been a club setting, this was the type of girl, Brooke would go for. 

“Hi, I’m Brooke and you must be Vanessa?” She turned around and look her up and down as her eyes narrowed. 

“You!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I fucked someone from the floor,” 
> 
> “Brooke Lynn Isabelle Hytes...” Nina buried her head in her hands, wishing that she could go ten minutes back before Brooke had barged into her room with a frantic look in her eyes.
> 
> “Though technically I fucked first and then she became part of the floor, so I didn’t actuall-“
> 
> “I hate that your ex is a lawyer.” She did. She really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck, you guys. Ya'll are too kind. So here you all go. More drama, more smut and more secrets. 
> 
> once again a giant shout out to theartificialdane who has been a bigger help than she really understands. 
> 
> So yeah. Enjoy. 
> 
> Comment below so we can discuss theories and stuff. I LOVE THAT!

“Me?”

“You’re the bitch who always gets the last freshly baked croissant down at the Starbucks on Monday mornings. Hoe, I’ve been wanting to yell at you for three months,” Pointing her finger at her, she made an intimidating presence, despite her small size. 

“Okay?” Brooke’s brows furrowed in confusion as she tried to process what Vanjie was saying. 

_Croissants?_

“Bitch, you know how much I need a warm and flaky piece of french tastiness on a Monday morning? Do you?” The juxtaposition of the petite woman in front of her couple with the angry and loud tenor of her voice, made Brooke feel blindsided. 

_What the fuck, was she on about?_

“From the way you’re acting, I am guessing a lot?” 

“A fuck ton, Mary. I swear, you been on my shit list forever - always walking in front of me in yo’ perfect hair and yoga pants stealing my Monday morning pastry fantasy! What you got to say for yourself?” Vanessa slowly walked towards her as her voice got louder, ending right in front of her, her neck craned to keep eye contact.

_There was something about those eyes. Where had she seen those eyes before?_

“Uhm… Nothing?” 

“Really hoe?”

“That croissant is the only carb I let myself eat during the week. So really, I won’t apologize.” Shrugging, she walked passed Vanjie, putting down her bags on the bed that wasn’t filled with half a Mac store of products and four dresses. 

“You one of them hoes that don’t let themselves live? You for real?” 

“Okay. This is quite simple. I go there every Monday at 8:45, get my coffee and croissants and go down to the counter. I am neither aiding or abetting in you not getting your “Monday morning pastry fantasy”, as you so aptly put it,” She really couldn’t see the problem. So she got that last croissant? There were other places to get one than that Starbucks - though Liam always made the best espresso. 

“Aiding and abetting? What you on about?” 

“If you are looking for a culprit, maybe you should talk to the guy working there? I am just an innocent bystander” She couldn’t believe that she was throwing Liam under the bus. But the angry and, quite frankly, beautiful woman in front of her made her want to be on her good side.

_Not that she could do anything about it. _

“Now why would I do my man Liam dirty? He always be remembering my name and drank?” 

“And yet he never saves a croissant for you? You sure, he’s your man?” Her raised eyebrow challenged Vanessa to contradict her.

_I am so sorry, Liam. But I just want this beautiful woman to stop yelling at me._

“Shit, you right. Goddammit, Liam, I thought we had something special,”

“Yeah well…” Brooke laughed a bit, as she saw Vanessa calming down. “So you want to try this again?” She put her hand out, hoping that they could restart. 

_Still. There was something about those eyes._

“Yeah, sorry girl, I take my Monday mornin’ rituals serious,” the sheepish smile she sent her way, was enough to make up for the angry poking she had done a few seconds ago. 

“I get it, so uhm. Hi, I’m Brooke,” She did her best at not feeling the tingle that ran up her hand as Vanessa grabbed it with hers. Softly shaking it. 

“And I’m Vanjie.”

She was cute.

_Brooke was fucked. _

* * *

_She was still basking in the afterglow, her muscles sore and mind fussy. _

_Bella was sitting in the window smoking, still naked. _

_The moonlight was lighting up her body, showcasing her perfection. Vanjie took the moment to really look at her. She admired her athletic build. The way she was so unapologetic sexual, her long legs and perfect tits on display with no care for who saw them. _

_How the hell had she managed to seduce this glamazon of a woman? _

_As her eyes were tracing the lines of her body, she noticed something under one of Bella’s breasts, what that a tattoo?_

_“Bitch, you have a tattoo?” The words tumbled out of her mouth, her brain filter still fucked out of commission. _

_“Huh?” Bella looked over at her on the bed, looking confused, almost as if she had forgotten that Vanjie was still there. _

_“There?” It took effort to lift her hand and point, her body weak and exhausted. _

_“Oh, that… Yeah. Got it years ago. Went through a phase, wanted to do something stupid and thought, why not get the infinity sign tattooed underneath my boob… You know, as you do?” She sounded bored. Her whole demeanour changed, but maybe that was just Vanjie reading too much into it. _

_“Giiiiiiirl,” Vanjie was surprised, it seemed so out of character for someone like Bella to have such a dumb tattoo. _

_“I know.” She smiled wryly as she stubbed her cigarette and threw it out the window. “So, do you need money?” The change in subject and her business-like tone of voice caught her completely off guard._

_“...What?” _

_“Money? For an Uber?” She slowly went over to a chair and picked up a black satin robe, instantly making Vanjie feel very naked and exposed. _

_What was going on?_

_“Why would I need that?” _

_“We’re on the upper east side and it’s 4 AM, are you really going to walk home in those heels?” _

_The bitch was kicking her out. Wow. Usually, it was Vanjie doing this to the women she brought home. _

_“You kicking me out?” She couldn’t help but laugh slightly, almost impressed that this was happening to her and not the other way around._

_“Uhm, Yeah? So. You need any cash to get home?” _

_“Hoe, I got my own money,” _

_“Right, okay. Uhm… Bye?” And then she walked into the bathroom, clearly indicating that she expected her to be gone when she got back out. _

_This bitch. _

_Vanjie got up on shaky legs, chuckling a bit to herself, as she tried to find her clothes, already dreading the fact that she would have to go home with no underwear on. _

_Seeing her dress and shoes thrown carelessly at the dinner table made her thoughts drift to earlier in the evening, and how Bella had taken her apart right there. _

_Fuck. She could feel herself get wet all over again. _

_She heard the shower start, as she put on her clothes, realising that she would probably have to get a move on. _

_Seeing a notepad on the table, she quickly got an idea. _

_I had fun. Call me if you wanna try for eight. - V_

_202-555-0174_

_She quickly got out of the apartment, fishing her phone out of her bag and dialling a number that she knew all too well._

_“Bitch, you best be getting ready to spend all you money on lipsticks, cause I just got laid by the lesbian club goddess!”_

* * *

They were all sitting in groups. Nina realised that there were a time and place to make all her employees mingle, and tonight was not the night. So she let it slide, as she chose to sit next to the Khiel’s girl, knowing that she probably played favourite with them, seeing as her best friend worked there. 

“So apparently, I have been stealing Vanjie’s Monday morning croissants for months?” Brooke looked confused at all of them, as she stabbed one of the tomatoes on her plate. 

“Holy shit, that’s you?” Nina had dealt with Vanjie’s supposed croissant thief for a couple of months. A matter that wasn’t really her problem, but something she chose to deal with because she found the small woman hilarious, her outbursts so ridiculous, that they were like watching live comedy. 

“Nina! See! I told you, it wasn’t me! I told you!” Katya knocked her hand loudly on the table, her eyes wide with indignation. 

“Vanjie came and yelled in my office about a blonde bitch from Khiel’s and you seemed like the obvious choice.” Nina shrugged happily biting into a fry, as Katya gasped at her. 

“Mama, I am offended and shocked that you would hear the words ‘blonde’ and ‘bitch’ and not think of Miss Hytes first.”

“Ob-fucking-jection!” Brooke’s indignant voice was paired with a surprised look on her face, as she turned and slapped Katya on the shoulder, the older blonde laughing at her.

“One, Katya… Really hon, are you? And Brooke, I’m going to deny that. I love you, but you’re a bitch.” Brooke placed a hand over her heart as she huffed, trying to play the victim even though she knew that Nina was right. She could be a bit of a bitch. 

“Barbara please, I am an upstanding citizen, I would never steal someone’s croissant - now Miss Hytes over here, that’s a whole different matter,” The signature wheezing laughter followed, as Katya bumped her shoulder playfully into the other blonde’s shoulder 

“How can I steal someone’s croissant, if I am paying for it with my own money? I mean, where’s the proof? Where are the witnesses of this supposed crime?” She looked at both of them, and at Shuga, Chad and Detox who had all listened to their conversation in quiet amusement.

“Bitch…” 

“Here we fucking go again...”

“I hate that you know so many lawyers” 

As the whole table erupted into loud laughter, Brooke frowned down at her salad. 

“No more than I do,” Nina heard Brooke’s muttering, the annoyed tone making her worried. 

* * *

Two tables over all the Mac Girls were huddled together, comparing their rooms, trying to figure out who had gotten the sweeter deal

“So how’s it going with the Ice Queen?” A’keria cackled as she asked, still not over the fact that Vanjie had been the one to get the Icy blonde as her companion for the weekend. Just her luck.

“She the croissant stealer,” Vanjie muttered as she took a sip of the wine in front of her

“What?” Silky was almost yelling, not giving a damn that her mouth was full. 

“I said, she the good damn croissant thief!” Vanjie’s voice was louder than a steam train, which was thankfully drowned out by the laughs over at Brooke’s table. 

“You’re kiddin’!” 

They had all had to deal with Vanjie’s yelling every Monday morning because some blonde woman always seemed to get the last fresh croissant at the corner Starbucks. 

Vanjie didn’t care that she could buy them at literally any other coffee shop - she wanted it from that one. 

“Nope… She that hoe,” she shook her head, as she gulped down the last of her wine. “But you know what, bitch said something that got me thinkin’. How come Liam ain’t ever save one for me? He there every Monday, he sees it happening. Why ain’t he helping a hoe out?” 

“Oh, so she one of them clever bitches, since she got you to change your mind” Silky had to admire any person, that could manage to get an angry Vanjie to see reason, as she was more stubborn than a bull. 

“Yeah, used all fancy words and shit.” 

“She’s also hot,” A’keria’s waggling eyebrows and Silky’s smirk made Vanjie roll her eyes. Those two hoes, always trying to set her up ever since they found out that she was a lesbian.

“Sure, if you into that uptight lady thing, you know me, I like my women more down and dirty,” Though she had to admit that Brooke was hot in a suburb wine mom kinda way. 

“You like them blondes tho,”

That she did. Especially if they had a dominating streak, stupid infinity tattoos and a love for the number seven.

* * *

_She hadn’t called. _

_Not that she had expected her to. To be honest, it seemed like a long shot. But still, it had felt like they had something, a connection. _

_“Look happy, you workin’ bitch.” Vanjie quickly stuffed her phone down the drawer with all their makeup samples, putting on her best “Hi, I work in retail” smile. _

_“Yeah, I know, Silk.” _

_“You still sighin’ over that blonde? Honey, she was pretty, but you need to move on, it’s been weeks.” She bumped into her shoulder, on her way to restock their lipsticks. _

_Honestly, what was it with those white hoes and Russian Red?_

_“If someone gave you seven orgasms in one night, you would’ve been sighin’ too!”_

_“Seven?” Silky looked at her over her glasses, looking more shook than the day she learned that you could get twinkies fried in cookie dough._

_“Se-ven, Mary. I swear I couldn’t feel my toes or fingers for like two hours after,” Vanjie wiggled her fingers at her while smirking. _

_“That just seems excessive, also you nasty!” Silky shook her head, laughing at her friend's antics, as she sat on one of the makeup chairs swirling back and forth. _

_“You just jealous,” _

_“You’re fucking right I am. Ain't no dick in the goddamn universe that could give me seven orgasms"_

* * *

“So lemme get this straight, yo skinny white ass don’t eat carbs during the week?” Vanjie yelled from the bedroom as Brooke laid the finishing touches on her nightly skincare routine. 

Brooke loved her routine. It was therapeutic and calming. Something she took great joy in doing, as it gave her time to really relax. A feeling she didn’t let herself experience that often.

“I’m 33-years-old, hon. This body won’t stay slim if I eat pastries every day,” Brooke needed to look her best. It was imperative to every single aspect of her life that she always presented herself as beautiful - something to be admired and something to aspire to. 

Out on one of the single beds, Vanjie was scrolling through her phone, liking everything and anything that she came across on Instagram.

“I don’t think that’s gon’ be a problem, mama.” She muttered, hoping that the older woman wouldn’t hear, afraid that she would notice the way Vanjie had admired her after they came back to their room. 

“What?” 

“I said, I think you’re overreacting,” 

_Nice save, Vanj. _

“Nope, I’m just realistic,” Brooke came out of the bathroom, her hair falling in soft waves down her shoulders, the large round glasses gone from their usual spot, as she was getting ready to go to bed. 

“You look mighty familiar, Mama,” There was just something about her that Vanjie recognised from somewhere else. Though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“We work together?” Brooke shrugged as she walked towards her bed.

“No, it ain’t that. I just- Holy fuck,” Vanjie dropped her phone. Staring at Brooke with a mixture of surprise, awe and… Anger?

“What? Is there something on my face? I know that I look weird without glasses and makeup,” Brooke started touching her face to see if she had some leftover cream on her chin or something. 

“You’re Bella.” The name made her heart stop. 

“What?” 

“You’re Bella. Holy Shit,” Brooke went pale, as she tried to figure out how she had fucked up that badly. 

How hadn’t she seen it before? Looking closer at Vanjie, she could see it now. Maybe it was the absence of alcohol in her blood that had made it difficult to remember. But now she saw it.

_Vanessa. _

_Fuck. _

“What. The. Fuck? You been hiding right down at Khiel’s all this time?” Vanjie’s tiny fists were clenched as she looked ready to either bolt up and flee the room or fight Brooke with her bare hands. 

“Vanessa… Oh. _Shit._” She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to make it all fit inside her head. Vanessa had worked at the same place as her this whole time? 

_Nina was going to kill her. _

“Shit is right, mama. Were you just not going to say anything?” Her steely glare created a knot in Brooke’s stomach, her hands fiddling with the strings of her sleeping shorts, trying to figure out a delicate way, to tell the truth. 

“Uhm, I honestly didn’t recognise you?” Judging by the look of anger in Vanjie’s eyes, that hadn’t been it. 

“Well, fuck you too, Brooke.” Shaking her head at her, she marched out of their room, the door slammed loudly behind her. 

Leaving Brook alone in the room. Sighing as she sat down on the bed. 

“Good job, Brooke. Perfect,” 

* * *

_The studio apartment was silent. _

_After Vanessa had left, Brooke had gone back to the window to smoke some more. Her body was sore and tired, while her mind was quiet. _

_It wasn’t often that she took anybody home with her, usually following their lead, not wanting to risk him seeing any evidence of her weekend activities. _

_But there had been something about the tiny brunette. The way she had fit in her arms, how her eyes almost shone in the light from the streetlamps. _

_She wanted to see her in her home. _

_Wanted her apartment to be tainted by her. _

_She wanted to remember the way those thighs had clench around her face as she came when she was sitting at her dinner table._

_Wanted to remember the moans and her begging as she sat on her couch watching the news. _

_And most of all she wanted to remember the way her hair has been splayed all over her pillow as she took her apart on her very own bed. _

_So they went to her apartment. _

_A decision she would probably hate in the morning, together with the soreness of her limbs and the headache from the tequila. _

_But right now, she was happy with that decision. _

_She walked out into the kitchen to get a glass of water and some preemptive aspirin, before going to bed and that was when she saw it. _

_A note on her dinner table. _

_It made her smile _

* * *

The frantic knocking woke her from her almost slumber on the bed. She wanted to ignore it, she had felt like a chaperone for 40 teenagers today, and she just needed to sleep. 

“Nina, please!” 

Except, when it’s your best friend who apparently decides that midnight is an appropriate time to need her. 

She so wanted to ignore the door but knew she couldn’t. So she dragged her body from the bed, and opened the door, not caring that she was wearing her big Lion King nightshirt, Brooke had seen it countless of times anyway.

The moment she opened the door, Brooke stormed in not saying a word and immediately began pacing back and forth in her room. 

Nina rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up a bit, knowing that breakdown from Brooke could take ages to solve - especially if it had anything to do with Patrick. 

“She hates me,” Brooke muttered as she kept on walking the length of Nina’s hotel room, trying to figure out what she was supposed to do.

“Who? Oh... Vanjie? Because of the croissants? Give her some credit, B,” Nina was tired, a tiny bit drunk on wine and really not in the mood to suffer one of her best friend’s neurotic breakdowns. 

“She thinks I’m a total bitch.” She ran a hand over her face, her voice high pitched and worried.

“Honey, I hate to be the bearer of ill news. But you _are_ a bitch." Nina shrugged.

It was one of the many reasons she loved Brooke - she was so unapologetic in everything she did. It often translated into bitchiness, but it was a breath of fresh air, to know a person that was always frank with you.

"I know, but it's not all that I am. You don't understand. Nina. Please just give me another room." She was talking fast, her hands curled into fists as she walked back and forth, her nervous energy making her appear fragile. 

“Why does she think that though, what could you possibly-” Nina added it all up in her head and knew. 

_She just knew. _

“No... Brooke, please tell me that you didn’t...” She hoped that she was wrong. That her intuition was off just this once.

But the way Brooke stopped pacing and looked at her apologetic told her everything she needed to know.

“You fucked her?” The minuscule nod knocked the air out of her. “Brooke, what did I tell you? What was my one rule?” 

Such an easy rule.

“Don’t fuck anyone from the floor,” She was looking down at the carpet, somehow managing to look like a child getting scolded by her mother. 

“And what did you do?” Nina felt a bit like her mother, trying to make reprimand her. It wasn’t because there were actual rules against fraternising with your colleagues on the floor. 

But Nina knew how Brooke worked. 

“I fucked someone from the floor,” 

“Brooke Lynn Isabelle Hytes...” Nina buried her head in her hands, wishing that she could go ten minutes back before Brooke had barged into her room with a frantic look in her eyes.

“Though technically I fucked first and _then_ she became part of the floor, so I didn’t actuall-“

“I hate that your ex is a lawyer.” She did. She really did. 

Brooke was too good at finding technicalities and holes in any rule, agreement or pact. It was an advantage if she was on your team, but a pain in the ass if she was working against you.

“Will you just shut the fuck up about Patrick? Please, can I get one moment without him in my goddamn life?” Brooke's voice cracked at the end of the sentence, her face pained.

The outburst stunned Nina. It had been ages since Brooke had last complained about the man that had once been a big part of their friendship. 

Was that why she was so tense? 

“Sorry, babe.” She got up from the bed and slowly walked towards her. Trying to gauge if this was a hugging moment or an “if you touch me I will hit you” situation - with Brooke those two were almost identical. 

“No. I’m the one who’s sorry. Just… Can we get me a new room?” Her voice was low, pleading with her to forgive her and help her. 

“Wish I could, but they are all booked,” Placing a hand on her shoulder Nina tried to send Brooke a reassuring smile. Hoping that she could calm her down. 

“Well, shit.”

Knowing that it was probably a lost cause. 

* * *

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Miss Hytes is your lucky lady seven?” Vanjie was pacing up and down the hall on the 6th floor. Leaning against the wall was Silky. She looked tired, but also entirely too amused at Vanjie’s predicament. 

“Silk, don’t talk so loud,” The brunette hissed, trying to make her understand that this information needed to be kept on the down-low. 

“But… Didn’t you say her name was Bella?” Vanjie gave her a nod in confirmation before she turned to restart her pacing “Damn… Lil uptight white missy is a regular player. Gotta admit, didn’t think that skinny bitch had it in her.” Her laugh echoed through the hall, as she tried to make the glass wearing ice queen fit with 

“Focus, Mary!!” She clapped at Silky, needing her advice right about now. 

“Vanj, come on. Did you expect that a woman with those glasses and that perfect bun, would be your sex goddess from the club? Cause I sure as shit didn’t.” Neither had Vanjie. She was still in shock that the lady who stole her croissant was also the same woman who had sexually ruined her for anyone else. 

“Well, no… But that ain’t important. What am I ‘sposed to do? We be rooming together,” she was almost vibrating with the nervous energy, her eyes wide as she looked almost pleadingly at Silky, hoping that her best friend could help her. 

“You gonna fuck her?”

“No! Yes. I don’t know?” It was the only thing she had been able to think about. Her mind wasn’t sure, but her body had been tingling with anticipation ever since she had laid eyes on Bella. 

_Fuck. Brooke._

“Boo, she came back around, like a motherfucking doughnut! If you ain’t gonna pick that glazed bitch up and eat her, then you dumber than I thought.” 

“I should have called Kiki,” she would’ve hit Vanjie over the head, told her to stop thinking with her pussy and then send her on her way. 

“But you didn’t, which means…. you gonna fuck her?” Silky shimmied her shoulders, her eyes filled with mirth as she looked expectantly at her. 

“I…”

_She didn’t know._

* * *

She opened the door with trepidation, not sure if she wanted it to be empty or not. 

As the room was blissfully silent, she felt a whiff of disappointment in her stomach, clearly having hoped subconsciously that Vanjie would’ve been there. 

Brooke walked over to her bed. Almost collapsing onto it.

She felt idiotic that she hadn’t immediately recognised her. She remembered that night, no she cherished it. The thought Vanessa’s moans and screams were intoxicating and had helped her get off countless times in the last couple of weeks. 

Maybe she just didn’t want to remember her? Afraid of what might happen. 

She had seen the number that Vanessa had left on a scrap of paper that night. Had even programmed it into her phone with the fantastical notion of maybe texting her. 

Flirting with the thought of seducing her once again, knowing that she never would. 

Because she couldn’t. 

She wasn’t in the position to start seeing someone regularly, not even if it was just for sex. That was why she had a whole routine, and why she had sent Vanessa on her way in the middle of the night. 

It was easier to never get too close to anyone. It would only end in hurt when she inevitably had to break it off. 

The door opened and in stepped Vanessa. She looked almost determined.

She closed the door behind her, locking it in the process. Her back rested against it.

She seemed filled to the brink with nervous energy. Her foot tapping against the carpet and her eyes never settling on a single spot for more than a few seconds at a time. 

_Oh. _

_She was horny._

Brooke had her rules, had her carefully planned routines, and boundaries. But really, when had it ever hurt anyone to fuck their way out of trouble? This situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, so why not to do what she did best, and fuck the pain away?

Brooke felt herself grin, as she got up from her bed, sauntering towards Vanessa. Feeling like a lioness stalking its prey.

She knew they needed to talk, but they might as well do that after an orgasm. 

Vanessa’s eyes were following her every move, her lips slightly parted, breath stuck somewhere in her throat. 

No makeup, a pair of sleeping shorts and a white top, and yet, she was still the sexiest woman that Vanjie had ever laid her eyes on. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Knowing that Bella and Brooke were one and the same was intoxicating. As she came closer, she could feel herself getting wet, the excitement blooming low in her stomach. 

She knew they needed to talk. 

But she had masturbated to the thought of that night for weeks. Knowing that the woman who was capable of giving her seven orgasms in one night was within her reach made all thought of adult conversation leave her mind. 

Stopping two inches from her, Brooke leaned down, her hair cascading over Vanjie, the soft locks lightly touching her chin. 

“Eight?” The whisper made her knees weak, but at the same time also cautious. 

“Bitch, you want me to die? Ain’t no way I could come that much, I nearly had permanent nerve damage after the last tim-“ a long pale finger was placed against her lips, effectively shutting her up, her eyes wide. 

“I meant as in - you’ve had seven, ready for number eight?” The smirk on her lips coupled with the devious look in her eyes made her happy that she had a wall to lean against. “But I’m honoured you have such trust in my ability.”

Leaning down once more, her lips started trailing down her neck. The touch feather-light. Making it hard for Vanjie to think. 

“Mama. You hot as motherfucking sin. You’re a-a walking glamazon with short nails, a lesbian dreamboat, how can I not?” Her fingers were inching their way under her shirt, making her gasp as they came in contact with her skin.

“Lesbian dreamboat, huh?” The word was whispered directly into her ear, as her fingers reached the underside of her breasts.

And stayed there.

Waiting for an answer. 

“You know you sex on legs, don’t be playin’” Vanjie clenched her thighs together, leaning her head back. Wanting to beg, but the words lodged somewhere deep in her throat. 

“Okay then. Here or on the bed?” A kiss was placed on the corner of her mouth, making her head spin. The softness of those lips something she had fantasised about for weeks.

“I-I…” the words just wouldn’t come out. 

Brooke chuckled lightly at her. 

“Here it is, then”. 

And suddenly she was all over her. 

Her hands pushed Vanjie’s sleeping shirt over her head, gasping as the colder air hit her nipples. 

Vanjie’s lips were captured in a bruising kiss, not so much a fight for control, but rather her handing it over to Brooke. 

Pinching one of Vanjie’s nipples, she drew a moan out of her, as her lips slowly trailed down her neck and then right down the middle of her cleavage. 

Her knees softly hit the carpeted floor as her hands started pulling on the lacy underwear. 

“Imma get real mad if you rip these, too.” The breathy voice made Brooke’s hands stop, the fabric caught on Vanjie’s hips. 

“How mad?” The calculated look in Brooke's eyes as she looked from the lace in the front of her and back up at her, made Vanjie realise that this woman was dangerous. 

“Bitch…” 

“I’ll be good,” the declaration was underlined with a sweet kiss on her hip. 

_Dangerous_. 

“Baby, you ain’t ever been good a whole day in your life,”

“You’re right” and then she ripped the lace, the room silent for a moment, as she looked challenging at Vanjie, daring her to get angry. Daring her to do anything. “I’ve been great every day of my life,” 

“Bi-oh fuck,”

Before she even got the word out, her lips were on her. Licking, tasting and sucking. She hummed and moaned, the vibrations making Vanjie’s knees weak and unsteady. 

Without taking a break, Brooke’s hands first slowly pushed one knee over her shoulder, which was quickly followed by the other.

_So very dangerous. _

Vanjie’s moans filled the room, Brooke’s tongue unrelenting as it thrust into her, while her hands were grabbing her thighs in a bruising hold. 

She was close. 

The sheer demonstration of power, the expertise of her tongue and the slight pain from her hands were sinful, Vanjie’s whole body floating on a cloud of ecstasy. 

As Brooke lavished attention on her clit, Vanjie felt herself get closer. Her body building up to something that felt almost too big, too scary. 

_This fucking woman. _

“Ah… Ah.” Her hands were holding onto Brooke’s locks, though she had difficulty in figuring out if she wanted her closer or further away.

She felt like she was getting ready to jump off a cliff without knowing how close the ground was. 

“I’m- I’m-“ her moans were getting louder, probably waking their neighbours.

And then her teeth softly, almost like a feather, grazed that tight nub of nerves and she was gone. 

Falling off that cliff, her heart seemed to beat in double time, her muscles all contracted as wave upon wave of agonising pleasure hit her. 

For a moment the world seemed to turn white before it exploded into a firework of colours. 

Without her really knowing how, Brooke slowly lowered her down to the floor, her legs gliding off her shoulders, as she peppered kisses all over Vanjie. 

None of them cared that they left sticky marks behind, nor did they notice that Brooke’s lips tasted of Vanjie as she softly kissed her. 

“Holy fuck,” she whispered, feeling a small smile against her lips. “Fuck babe, did you even come?”

“Oh, Vanessa. We’re not even close to being finished,”

_So very fucking dangerous. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That all? You don’t got some secret wife somewhere, waiting dutifully at home for her beautiful blonde woman?” She was looking close to monitor Brooke’s reactions, trying to figure out if she was being lied to. 
> 
> “Nope. No wife.” Brooke looked Vanjie directly in the eye, not blinking, not twitching as she said it. 
> 
> “Honest?” She had to check one last time. And as Brooke gave a tiny nod, Vanjie could feel a small weight being lifted from her shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun dun.... 
> 
> Y'all ain't ready. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the amazing response to this fic. It's been crazy. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter too!! <3 <3

“Why do you look so fucking smug this morning? You’ve only had a single cup of coffee and you already look ready to seize the day? You got some coke mixed into that, mama?” Katya was huddled in her chair, her sweater so big it almost functioned as a blanket. She was sniffing her extra-large “black-as-her-soul” cup of coffee, hoping that the damps created by the caffeine would make her wake up faster. 

“Me?” Brooke tried to feign innocence but could feel her mouth curl into a satisfied smirk. 

“Don’t go all mysterious girl on me. Honestly, what could make you such a ray of sunshine in the morning? You’re usually a pain in the ass before you've had at least four cigarettes. So what’s the T, hon?” The raised perfectly drawn eyebrow usually worked on Brooke. Katya having a secret power of drawing out the truth from everyone.

Just not today.

“Oh, nothing. I just had a really good night, slept like a baby,” Brooke seemed all loose, warming her hands on the warm cup as she smiled softly, her eyes closed as she took a deep breath. 

A plate was loudly placed on the table, making Brooke’s eyes snap open as Detox sat down next to Katya. 

Her neon hair and brows made her look like an alien when coupled with the fancy interior of the restaurant, but then again, Detox had a way of always looking out of this world in every setting.

“Why is Hytes smiling? It’s too early for the ice queen to be that sunny,” Her voice was dry as she wrinkled her nose at the small smile on Brooke’s face. 

“Jesus guys, I am not the horrible in the morning,” looking around at all her friends and colleagues, who all seemed to either shrug or look away from her. “Am I?” Brooked tried to catch the eye of just one of them.

“I mean, you’re not that-“ before Nina could soften the blow, Katya interrupted her from her sweater cocoon.

“Mama, morning, day or night, you are always prissy and uptight. But we love that about you. Our very own uptown socialite bitch,” Katya sent Brooke one of her blinding smiles as she took a big gulp of coffee. 

“Fuck you, guys. I am a delight,” Brooke muttered, making the whole table chuckle.

“Chiiiile, we love you, honey. But they ain’t calling you Ice Queen just for the fun of it,” Shuga’s voice was filled with mirth, as she shrugged at Brooke. 

“Guys, guys. B is actually smiling. It happens two times a year, so let’s just all enjoy it,” Nina could see the smile slowly falling from Brooke’s lips, her best friend’s moods always fickle and quick to change.

“Whatever you say, boss. So what’s the plan for today?” Katya’s eyes lit up at all the possibilities, as she was the only one who was feeling up for this tour. She never got to go to any fancy places like this, so she wanted to soak it all up, so she could tell Trixie all about it when she got home. 

“Uhm,” Nina swallowed her mouthful of yoghurt, looking at the tired yet anxious beauty queens in front of her. “Girls, shouldn’t we all wait until after breakfast where the whole group is gathered?” Almost in sync, all the occupants around the table lifted one brow, looking at Nina with unimpressed looks.

“Okay. I am _SO _excited because I’ve planned THE BEST day, for all of us. First, we’re going to the spa, to get that quality girls time - no Debbie downers allowed. Yes, I am looking at you, Brooke!” The excitement in her voice made it difficult for any of the surrounding women to keep a scowl on their face. The joy of Nina West an infectious commodity.

“Bitch!” The indignation in Brooke's voice was ignored as Nina kept on speaking.

“I am talking, massages and bubble bath’s that smell more expensive than Dior's perfume department. Then after lunch, we are going mini-golfing, which will be so dang cute, that we’ll 'awh' ourselves through every obstacle." and with a small smile, Nina took a sip of her green tea. Feeling quite proud of what she had planned.

She was met with silence, as they all looked impressed. Brooke was casually smiling into her coffee. Nina tried not to think too hard about why her best friend was in a good mood. She knew that she and Vanjie had probably slept together, her best friend always had a weakness for beautiful women.

But that talk would have to wait. 

“How the fuck did you convince Ru to pay for this?” Trust Chad, to be the one to go straight to the point. She had worked for Ru for almost a decade, so Chad knew that the shrewd bitch didn’t spend money on her employees unless you forced her to. 

“A lady never reveals her sources, but I can tell you that I had a great talk with Michelle a few months ago,” Nina’s shrug made all of them laugh, as they all knew that Michelle had a direct line to Ru, the woman often working as a liaison between the two parties.

“Honey, you’re a genius!” Shuga said almost in awe. 

“Why do you all think that I'm your boss?” Nina flicked her hair over her shoulder, giving them all a wink, making the table erupt once again in loud laughter and giggles. 

Catching Brooke’s eye, she mouthed a soft “thank you,” to her, as it had been her idea to go directly to Michelle. 

Brooke waved her off with a smile, taking a sip of coffee, as her eyes travelled over to one of the other tables. Without turning around Nina knew who was sitting there. 

Knew that she would most definitely see Vanessa with the same smile on her lips, like the one on her best friend. 

_This would never end well._

* * *

_Lips were softly kissing their way across Vanjie’s collarbone, her body drenched with sweat, making her feel sticky. She was still trying to catch her breath, having just come… again, at the mercy of Brooke’s ridiculously talented hands_

_“Brooke, girl. I need a moment,” Vanjie tried to push her head away, but it was more a pat on Brooke’s slightly tousled hair than anything, her body still loose and almost weak after the two orgasms. _

_“But I’m comfortable here,” the words were mumbled against Vanjie’s skin, as Brooke kept on peppering her with small kisses all over her body. At the moment she was worshipping the dip in her clavicle, making Vanjie shiver with overstimulation. _

_“Mama, give a girl a fucking break!” Vanjie laughed as she once again tried to push Brooke away._

_With one final peck on her shoulder, she moved away from Vanjie, rolling onto her side, leaning her head on her arm, her eyes trailing all over Vanjie’s body. _

_“Sure, let’s take a moment,” Vanjie looked into those blue eyes and felt herself get lost. There was something about Brooke. The way she carried herself, the way she was so unapologetic about herself and sex. It was refreshing. _

_It was powerful._

_It was so fucking hot. _

_“Jesus mama,” Vanjie felt her heart rate slow, making her able to think a bit more clearly, “So, you gon’ tell me why you lying ‘bout yo name? I mean, Bella, really? What you think this is, some Twilight bullshit?” She raised her eyebrows, trying to make Brooke see that she couldn’t sex her way out of this. _

_Though, if Vanjie was honest she probably could. _

_“It’s simple. Anonymity.” Brooke said it all very calmly, shrugging one shoulder, trying to convey that it was really not that big a deal. “I mean, It’s hard being this hot if girls know your name.” _

_It all seemed very practised, and it made Vanjie narrow her eyes in suspicion._

_“That all? You don’t got some secret wife somewhere, waiting dutifully at home for her beautiful blonde woman?” She was looking close to monitor Brooke’s reactions, trying to figure out if she was being lied to. _

_“Nope. No wife.” Brooke looked Vanjie directly in the eye, not blinking, not twitching as she said it. _

_“Honest?” She had to check one last time. And as Brooke gave a tiny nod, Vanjie could feel a small weight being lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t know what the fuck they were doing, but she was not ready to give it up. _

_Feeling brave and ready to give back to the woman, who had been very giving the last couple of hours she leaned closer. Her lips slowly trailed up Brooke’s arm, teeth softly biting here and there. _

_“I thought you needed a moment?” Brooke tried to keep her voice steady, but her gasp at the end made Vanjie smile, feeling victorious, knowing that she had found a small crack in the otherwise impenetrable armour._

_As she leaned closer, Brooke rolled over onto her back, Vanessa crawling on top of her, her hands caging her in, as their lips met. Nipping and teasing. Teeth clashing and biting. It was soft, it was rough. Brooke’s hands grabbed Vanjie’s ass, the rough touch making her moan in delight. _

_“What do you want? Tell me,” The words were whispered against Brooke’s lips, that softly curled into a smile._

_Then before Vanjie had the chance to say anything else, Brooke’s hand trailed to her hips, grabbing them tightly as she rolled them over. _

_As Vanjie found herself on her back, she glanced into those bright eyes, her breath catching slightly as they held promises of a long night. _

_“I want you,” and with those three words, she captured Vanessa’s lips in a searing kiss, that made her toes curl and her fists grab at the covers. _

* * *

Two tables over a different set of ladies from Bloomingdales were sitting, almost mirroring the blonde skincare possé. The cradling of coffee cups and huddling in oversized sweaters made them stand out against the other patrons, who all looked ready to go out on the golf course. 

Silky kept glancing over at Vanjie, who seemed to be in a daze. Her coffee cup stood untouched and, more alarming, was the fact that the plate holding a warm and fresh croissant also hadn't been touched yet.

That never happened.

Silk guessed that this freak occurrence had a lot to do with a blonde and tall stranger sitting approximately 20 feet away from them. But she was a good friend, so she kept her mouth shut. 

“What’s up with Vanjie?” A’keria was staring curiously at her, trying to figure out why her friend looked so out of it, and more importantly, why she was so quiet.

“Fuck if I know.” Shrugging at Kiki, Silky decided to bring her friend back to this plane of existence.

“Yo, Vanjie!” She tried to find that perfect yell that would make Vanjie snap out her sex induced coma. 

No such luck.

“Vanj, girl?” A’keria snapped her fingers in front of Vanjie’s face, which seemed to do the trick as her brown eyes seemed to lose their fog. 

“Jesus, what? Can’t a hoe just sit and mind their own business for a mo?” Vanjie took a big sip of her coffee but almost spat it out again, “Holy mother of fucking saint Michael, that’s hot. My tongue!” the whole table started laughing, as Vanjie tried to somehow stifle the pain by patting her tongue. 

“‘Ness. Girl. What do fuck is you doing, hoe?” Silky laughed as she handed over her glass of water, “Like girl, how’s your head?” looking over her glasses, she stared at Vanjie gulping down the water, waiting for an answer. 

“Haven’t gotten any complaints, bitch!” The loud foghorn voice, smiling eyes and sassy snap told them all they needed to know. 

“Aaaaand she’s back. Jeez, girl, you can’t scare Aunt KiKi like that, she be getting war flashbacks of you going 2018 Christmas sale on her,” Silky was quick to duck, as Vanjie threw a napkin after her. 

“Bitch. You swore a motherfucking oath that you ain’t ever be mentioning that again! Y'all did, so don’t you think I don’t see all them chuckles. I remember and the receipts will be kept!” Vanjie pointed at all of them, Plastique and Ariel giggling, while A’keria just raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Dumbass hoes, all of yous,” she muttered into her coffee, trying hard not to look over at Brooke’s table. 

She still felt tingles all over her body after this morning. 

* * *

_The transition from being asleep to waking was slow. Vanjie felt warm and comfortable. The duvet clearly having a higher thread count than the shitty IKEA polyester hell she kept at home. Her muscles were exquisitely sore, while her mind was still high on the night she had. _

_A warm and soft hand trailed over her stomach, making her suck in a breath, as the touch sent tingling sensations down to her toes. _

_“Morning,” the word was whispered against her ear, the small puff of air making her shiver. The hand on her stomach settled right above her pubic bone. _

_Not moving any further. _

_“Hey,” She tried to turn around, wanting to see Brooke in the morning, wanting to have a clear picture of how her blonde hair would look tousled with sleep and sex. _

_Did she have those puffy morning eyes or was she blessed with perfect doe eyes 24/7?_

_The hand on her stomach kept her from moving. _

_“You know what would take this morning from good to great?” Brooke’s morning voice was raspy and low, it made the tight knot of sensation in her lower stomach bloom._

_“No?”_

_“Watching you come by my hand in the shower.” And with that, she jumped out of bed and walked over to the bathroom, her naked ass on full display. Brooke opened the door to the bathroom and walked right into the shower, turning on the water without a care in the world. _

_She never closed the door, giving Vanjie front seats to the show, as she was lying frozen on the bed, seeing a blurred outline of Brooke naked body through the tinted shower glass._

_Before Vanjie’s brain even had the chance to ponder the invite her feet were already carrying her across the floor towards the real-life Aphrodite that had somehow found her way to this particular hotel room. _

_“What took you so long?” Brooke's voice was teasing, her back faced Vanjie, as she lathered her body with lemony soap. The suds accentuated all her curves, Brooke having been gifted with the body most women would kill for. _

_“You only came once last night.” It was something that Vanjie hadn’t thought of in the moment, but as the night progressed she realised that Brooke seemed to not really care about herself or her own pleasure, as she kept on showering Vanjie with tantalising touches and sensual kisses. _

_“And?” Brooke’s voice hitched slightly, making Vanjie smile as she leaned closer to place soft kisses on her pale back. _

_“Lemme do something ‘bout that, Mami,” the combination of the warm water and Brooke’s skin was heady. The zesty lemon scent seemed to surround them, Vanjie realising that the citrusy smell would end up being an aphrodisiac for her. _

_Her hands went around to Brooke’s front, softly caressing her stomach, the muscles tight. Brooke tensed, as Vanjie’s hands touched raised skin, the bumpiness of it making her intrigued. _

_A scar? How had she not noticed that before? Before she had time to say anything, Brooke turned around facing her. Her eyes held a determined glint, while the slightly upturned smirk gracing her lips would've made Natalie Dormer cry in envy. _

_“Huh. I seem to remember saying, that the quality of my morning would increase by making you, not me, come, Vanessa?” and with that Brooke leaned down and captured her lips, slowly backing Vanjie up against the shower wall. _

_Vanjie wanted to kiss Brooke forever. Her soft, plump lips were intoxicating as they covered her own. Everything seemed to disappear as the kiss deepened. Vanjie’s heartbeat and Brooke’s tongue the only two sensory inputs that her mind and body could handle._

_The water from the shower did nothing to quench the fire burning in Vanjie’s body, as Brooke’s hands roamed all over her body. Pinching and caressing her breasts. _

_As they parted to finally breathe, Vanjie quickly glanced down at the scar. It was large and pale - it seemed old, but before she found her voice to ask what had happened there, Brooke’s hand was distracting her, as it touched her inner thigh. _

_Vanjie gulped, knowing how talented those fingers were; her whole body clenching in need of their tantalising touch. _

_Brooke leaned her forehead against Vanjie’s the water cascading down over both of them, none of them caring that it got in their eyes and mouths. _

_“Tell me you want it,” Brooke's voice was like velvet, and Vanjie wanted to follow any and all commands made by the goddess in front of her._

_“Please, I want it,” She didn’t care that she sounded needy. Vanjie didn’t care that this tall, secretive blonde could make her do anything._

_She tried to capture Brooke’s lips in another searing kiss, but she leaned back. _

_“Again,” Her voice was commanding, making her weak in the knees. _

_“Fuck… I… Mami. Please.” She was like a drug, and Vanjie was not ready to give it up yet - if ever. _

_Her fingers slowly crept closer, teasing her, making her moan desperately. _

_“One more time.” This time the words were said directly against her lips, the soft touch sending a shiver running down the length of her spine. _

_“Please, fuck me!” The words flew out of her. Vanjie didn’t care anymore. She just needed Brooke to touch her. _

_Then. _

_Finally. _

_As Brooke’s long and slim fingers touched her centre, Vanjie felt her legs go weak. Brooke immediately placed a thigh between her legs, ensuring that she wouldn’t suddenly fall. The contact made Vanjie gasp, as her body was flooded with a warmth that ran from her toes to her fingertips. _

_“You are so wet for me, Vanessa,” The way her name sounded on her lips made Vanjie groan, her head hitting the wall behind her, as she felt herself getting taken apart by Brooke’s skilful hands. _

_It was the sweetest torture, as her fingers played her like a violin. Taking her from major to minor and hitting all her notes - even G. _

_The intoxicating mix of the two fingers pumping in and out of her together with the thumb on her clit, made Vanjie climb towards a crescendo she didn’t even think was possible to hit. Her muscles tensing, body feeling hot, while her breathy moans seemed to reach a higher pitch. _

_“That’s right. You’re so good.” Brooke whispered it against her lips, as she added a third finger. Vanjie almost screamed at the sensation. The stretch a delicate balance of being too much and just enough. _

_“So close, please.” Vanjie couldn’t recognise her own voice. The desperate tone coupled with the breathiness made it softer than she ever thought was possible. _

_“Please what?” Even with her eyes closed, she could hear the smirk in Brooke’s voice, and she would have glared at her if she had the strength. But at that moment it didn’t matter that Brooke was painfully aware of the power she had, all that mattered was that she stopped playing with Vanjie and gave her what she needed. _

_“Please. Make me come,” The moment the words left her lips, Brooke’s thumb started to touch Vanjie’s clit in earnest. The pressure was just right, which coupled with the fingers setting roughly entering her, made Vanjie cry out, her whole body clenching as she came right then and there. _

* * *

“Ugh, I hate you,” Katya’s loud groan could be heard in all corners of the large spa facility, making all the other patrons turn to look at her, trying to decipher what was going on. 

“What have I done now?” Brooke walked out into the pool area, looking every bit the middle-class trophy wife fantasy in her white one-piece bathing suit. 

“That,” Katya motioned vaguely at Brooke’s body, her face a mixture of disgust and admiration. "Jeez, Barbie. Could you give the rest of us a chance?” Katya loved Brooke to pieces, but she envied her body. The way that Brooke carried herself as if she didn’t have a care in the world. 

It was admirable. 

It was sexy.

It was fucking annoying. 

“Sorry?” Brooke shrugged as she got in the water, her hair clipped on top of her head, to ensure that it wouldn't get wet.

“Oh mama, I see that smirk, I know you fucking aren’t,” Katya did her flailing laugh that sounded more like a wheeze, almost falling on her ass, as the stones were slippery and not safe for a signature Katya guffaw. 

The area next to the pool slowly filled up with the Bloomingdale ladies, all in different varieties of swimwear that ranged from classic and modest to sexy and trendy. 

Only Nina and Silky noticed how Brooke and Vanjie’s eyes kept searching the other one out when they thought that the other one wasn’t looking. 

Though Vanjie didn’t even try to hide her stare, as Brooke emerged from the water. It was as if the whole room stopped for a second to admire the water softly dripping down her pale and perfect skin. 

Nina wasn’t affected by Brooke’s beauty, probably because she had seen in it from every angle since high school. She quickly clapped her hands to get the attention of her stunned employees. 

_“Ladies. The time has come for you all to give yourself some well-earned tender-loving care. This is Mrs Kasha Davis, who will be taking care of all us the next couple of hours. Now before I let her take the floor, I just want you all to know that you will be spending time with someone that you don't work a counter with nor have roomed with so far. I have the lists up here, so you can see who will be getting a spa treatment with whom. Now, Kasha, take it away,” _

“Nina is such a team mom, it’s a miracle that she hasn’t gotten her own football team of little monsters yet. Was she always like this?” Detox leaned against Brooke’s should, softly whispering as the very proper and motherly looking woman from the spa started talking.

“Oh yeah, you should have seen her at my we-weirdly big production of 30th birthday. Honestly, she had colour-coded lists and everything.” If Detox noticed Brooke’s stuttering, she didn’t call her on it. 

_“... depending on which list you are on, you will either be getting a luxurious massage, a delightful facial or a beautiful manicure,”_

“God. This woman is too happy for me,” Detox complained, still keeping her voice low, as a soft groan left her body. The idea of being in the proximity of such happiness almost too much for her. 

“D. Everyone is too happy for you,” Brooke giggled, though she stopped immediately the moment she saw the disapproving look, Nina was sending them. 

_“Now ladies. Get ready for some pampering and self-care!” _

And with that the small woman clapped her hands in delight, once again drawing a groan from Detox, though this one was drowned out by the scampering of everyone trying to get to Nina and the lists. 

Brooke stood in the back and waited for either Shuga or Chad to arrive with a list. 

“B, honey, you are getting a manicure with Big Silk. Chile, she is going to keep you entertained, that’s for sure,” Shuga exclaimed as she looked over the list.

Brooke had a vague memory of someone named Silky over at the Mac counter. 

_Fuck, she hoped that she didn’t know anything about her and Vanjie. _

* * *

“Bitch, if yo messy ass be saying anything to Brooke, I will make sure that ain’t ever seeing the sun again. I might be tiny, but I will kill you,” Vanjie was almost vibrating with anxiety over the thought of her best friend spending any alone time with Brooke. She tried hard to keep her tone low so no one heard what she was hissing at Silky. 

“Boo, would I ever do you that dirty?” Silky placed a hand on her chest, feigning shock. 

“You would, and you has, hoe. So don’t be playin’ all innocent with me!” Vanjie’s eyes narrowed, as she pointed a finger at her friend. 

“Miss Vanjie. I am offended and hurt that you be thinking about me like that,” Trust Silky, to turn on the charm, trying to appear harmless, though she tended to be the worst wing-man a lady could ever want. 

“Mary, I got three words for you. Tampa, 2016, Dana.” The stare that Silky received told her that Vanjie still hadn’t forgotten nor forgiven her for that night. A night that both of them had promised to never talk about. 

“Alright. Imma be a good girl and leave lil Miss Seven alone. You have fun with Miss Fame and that facial, boo.” Silky turned around and walked over to Brooke who was standing in the back, looking less than enthused about the whole ordeal, while Vanjie wanted to bite her nails at the thought of leaving those two women together for any length of time. 

_This would not end well. _

* * *

“... Bitch, I was motherfucking ready to do so!” Silky’s loud voice was filled with mirth as she finished her story. Her hands were getting painted by a cute nail technician that tried to hide her smile at the story, as she applied a sparkling layer of purple polish to Silky newly filed nails. 

“And you said that?” Brooke’s voice was incredulous, as she looked over at her, her body fighting against the chuckles, as she needed to sit still, so the pale pink polish wouldn’t get all over her fingers. 

In comparison to Silky, her nails were kept short and rounded. 

“Honey, I swear on the lil baby Jesus, I was ready and then they wouldn’t even give me the motherfucking chance to do so!” It was clear that Silky wanted to talk with her hands, as she kept on fidgeting instead of being able to wave her arms around. 

“Holy shit, Silk.” 

And then they both broke down laughing. Both of them almost wheezing after air. Their cheeks hurting from having laughed almost constantly the last 30 minutes. Silky was a wild ride, and Brooke had no choice but to follow her lead. 

“Hoe, you ain’t too bad,” Silky said, catching Brooke’s eyes, though her face turned serious. 

“Is this the point where you give me the shovel talk?” She had been waiting for this moment ever since she realised that she would be spending alone time with Vanjie’s best friend. 

“Nah, Vanj a big girl, she can handle her own shit. Just… Be careful, Miss Brooke. Life ain’t been too kind on her, don’t be one more bitch on her long list of shady hoes!” The sombre tone made something hurt inside of Brooke because she knew that her name would in all likelihood end up on that list. 

Because she couldn’t give Vanjie anything more than what she already had.

It just wasn’t possible. 

“I promise you, I won’t,” the lie turned her mouth ashy. Brooke had always been a good liar, but this time she felt bad about it.

_Interesting._

“Now bitch, look at them nails! Silky ‘bout to get herself a man with these!” and with that, the seriousness was gone and Brooke tried to follow along with the Ganache show, trying to kill the pit that was slowly growing in her stomach. 

* * *

“Honey, I feel reborn! That massage gave me back ten years. And Julio wasn’t bad to look at either, chile!” Shuga’s voice rang throughout the locker room, as all the ladies were getting ready for lunch. 

“Oh mama, that facial went deep. I feel like a real woman, now. Trixie's not gonna know what hit her. How about you Miss Brooke Lynn, you got them nails did?” Katya went over to Brooke, who was applying her makeup, her glasses resting on the tip her nose as she concentrated on getting her mascara on without also poking out her eye. 

“Oh yeah. It was good, Kat. Silky was-" Brooke trailed off as her phone vibrated on the table in front of her, instantly diverting her attention from the conversation.

> **Steve will pick you up at 5 pm. Bill is turning 60 and he’s celebrating it at the Ritz. Remember, you must talk to Charlene and Diana tonight. Wear the purple gown (you know the one) with the gold underneath. Strappy heels, hair up, contacts and the diamond earrings I got you for our fifth anniversary. **
> 
> **\- P**

_Fuck. _

Brooke felt her heart rate pick up speed as her palms turned sweaty. She quickly opened up her calendar trying to figure out if she had overlooked something, knowing that it was improbable. 

**31st of August, Saturday. **

  * Retreat with Bloomingdales
  * All Day

_Nothing. _

Shit. 

“B, you okay?” Katya’s voice dragged her out of her spiralling thoughts, making her realise that not only was there a world outside of her panic but that she needed to quickly find somewhere quiet and empty, so she could figure out what she was going to do. 

“Oh yeah, just something I need to deal with. Uhm. Right. I’ll see you all at lunch.” And with that she quickly gathered all her stuff, dashing out of the room, leaving her friends behind perplexed at the fact that Brooke had gone out into the world, without ensuring that she looked perfect. 

Storming out, she looked for anywhere quiet, finally settling on an accessible toilet. Walking in and locking the door behind her, she quickly sent a text. Knowing what havoc it would cause. 

> **I’m not in town, so that won’t be possible - B**

Less than ten seconds after she had fired off the message her phone started ringing, the caller ID showing that Patrick was calling her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself down, knowing that panicking would do nothing good for the conversation she was about to have. 

“Hello, Patrick,” She kept her voice low and pleasant. 

_“Brooke Lynn. Where the hell are you?” _Even if he wasn’t in front of her, Brooke could imagine the way that he was pinching his nose. Trying to calm himself down so he wouldn’t yell at her. The slight vibrato in his voice betrayed him though. It was clear that he was losing his calm. 

Or he would.

“I’m in Albany,” She knew that the words would send him flying off the handle, the fact that she was that far away, would ruin all the plans he had carefully made for what would probably be a very important and strategic night for his overall campaign.

It was always a very important and strategic night for his campaign.

_“ ALBANY? Why the fuck are you in Albany, it’s Bill’s birthday today, you know how fucking important this is?” _She moved her phone a few inches away from her ear, as his anger made the decibels increase. 

“Well, I guess Scarlet forgot to put it in my calendar, so no, Patrick, I didn’t know,” She understood his anger. But it wasn’t her fault that his secretary had forgotten to keep Brooke updated. 

_“Even if you didn’t know, you are supposed to fucking tell me, when you leave town. Every. God. Damn. Time.”_ The accusation was fair, though the fact that he overlooked Scarlet’s mistake made him roll her eyes. Of course, he would hold his hand over _her._

“And YOU are supposed to always give me a 24-hours warning whenever there is an event, so really...” she was holding her phone so tightly, she feared that it might break in half. It had been weeks since they had last seen each other, summer always having fewer events of this type than fall. 

She hated when he treated her like a child that needed to be reprimanded. She wasn’t a child, she was his… Whatever you could call the ridiculous arrangement they had. 

_“Jesus, Brooke Lynn. Fuck. Okay. I’ll send Steve. He’ll probably be there in two hours. You better be ready.” _She hated the way he always insisted on calling her Brooke Lynn. He was the only one who did that. 

She hated how he had no regard for her feelings on the matter. 

“I promise,” her voice held little conviction. He always managed to make her feel small. All of her friends might see her as a bossy bitch, but they never saw her with him. How he just managed to strip away all her confidence and control. 

_“I ask for so little,” _His voice sounded so sincere as if he honestly believed the lie he was telling. 

“I know,” Brooke had to placate him, she knew that tonight was already going to be difficult, there was no need for her to make it even worse. Her legs turned to jelly, making her glide down against the door she was leaning against. 

Not caring that the floor was probably filled with bacteria and dirt. 

She leaned her head against the door. Feeling the panic settle deep in her stomach.

She felt sick.

_“You better be the most perfect wife tonight,” _The way he said it, all business, no warmth, created a lump in her throat. There was once a time when being his perfect wife had been the best thing in the world.

How the hell had it come to this?

“Aren’t I always, dear?” Her voice cracked a bit. His anger and coldness heavily implied that they would have a shouting match later, something that always left her feeling raw and useless.

_Click. _

He hung-up.

Shit.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yeah, B… I-“ The worry in his eyes made her insides churn. She couldn’t deal with having a serious conversation right now, not when she had to prepare herself for the performance she was about to give.
> 
> “Don’t, let’s just-“ Brooke couldn’t deal with Steve, much like Nina, once again questioning her choice of agreeing to this arrangement. Right now, she just needed this night to go over well, so she could get home and sleep.
> 
> “No, it’s not that. Just... I put some concealer in your clutch, and I think you're gonna need it because that hickey is… noticeable,” Steve caught her eye in the mirror, pointedly looking down at her neck, immediately making Brooke’s hand touch the side of it, desperate to hide it, angry at herself that she had missed it when she had so carefully put on her makeup earlier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go, get ready to meet Patrick.

The car was slowly weaving in out of New York traffic. Brooke looked every bit the part as the beautiful and untouchable wife of Mr Patrick James Hytes, First Deputy Attorney General in the good ol' NYC. Her beautiful haute couture 2014 Ralph & Russo gown managed to perfectly accentuate all her curves in an impressively modest manner. 

Its deep purple colour creating a stark contrast to her pale white skin. Brooke knew it drew the perfect amount of attention to her. The dark colour wasn’t flashy, nor was the cut revealing. 

Yet, she knew the moment she walked into the Ritz, everyone would be looking at her. 

Her hair was in an intricate updo with two soft blonde locks down, framing her face. Her ears were adorned with sparkling earrings, the diamonds classy and minimalistic while hinting at a certain level of wealth.

_ Just how he liked it. _

Her make up was soft, her lips a nude colour, while her eyes were lightly smoked. The glasses were left behind, and instead contacts. 

However, the cherry on top of the illusion was the white gold wedding band on her right hand. The light from the street that managed to filter through the window made the big purple diamond in its centre glitter and sparkle. 

It was funny how a ring that once brought her so much joy now only seemed to cause her anxiety. 

Putting on the ring was like putting on a uniform. 

In the front, Steve was deftly driving the car, quiet and professional as always. 

He had been a stable part of Brooke’s life the last decade as he had held the position of Patrick’s, and therefore also hers, personal chauffeur/assistant/secretary. He was the man closest to  _ The Hytes _ , and probably the only one in the whole town who truly knew every little detail of their so-called arrangement. 

“Okay. Give me intel. How angry is he?” Brooke’s voice was soft and low, as she was preparing herself to be  _ Brooke Lynn Isabelle Hytes _ for the night.

“It’s difficult to say. I think it’s in the middle between election night for midterms 2010 and the first time you asked for a divorce,” his voice was calm, as he looked directly at the road.

“Jesus, that gives some room for interpretation,” Brooke already felt tired, which was less than ideal since her evening would probably go into the AM. Dealing with a cranky Patrick on top of that just seemed like too much. 

“But I mean, he wasn’t throwing stuff around, so I think we’re good,” Steve sent her a smile through the rear mirror, his eyes twinkling as he tried to cheer her up.

_ Bless his heart.  _

“Oh. That’s something, at least” her words were mumbled as she looked down at her nails, 

“Yeah, B… I-“ The worry in his eyes made her insides churn. She couldn’t deal with having a serious conversation right now, not when she had to prepare herself for the performance she was about to give.

“Don’t, let’s just-“ Brooke couldn’t deal with Steve, much like Nina, once again questioning her choice of agreeing to this arrangement. Right now, she just needed this night to go over well, so she could get home and sleep.

“No, it’s not that. Just... I put some concealer in your clutch, and I think you're gonna need it because that hickey is… noticeable,” Steve caught her eye in the mirror, pointedly looking down at her neck, immediately making Brooke’s hand touch the side of it, desperate to hide it, angry at herself that she had missed it when she had so carefully put on her makeup earlier. 

“Shit. Where is i-” catching the shit-eating grin on his face, Brooke rolled her eyes so far back in her head that she could almost hear a 14-year-old huff in admiration, as Brooke realised that he was fucking with her. 

“Oh, you massive dick, I should have fucking known,” Brooke’s annoyance at the joke was overshadowed by the absurdity of the situation. 

_ Her husband’s driver calling her out on having had sex with someone else.  _

“Let me get this straight, you actually went to Albany to get laid? Patrick wasn't wrong? Bold move, Mrs Hytes... Bold. Move,” Taking a right turn, Steve whistled at her, half in admiration, half just to piss her off. 

“No…” Brooke looked down at her nails, trying to appear unbothered, “it just coincided… Business and pleasure, you know. You’ve met her, though,” The car jolted slightly as Steve accidentally hit the break, his eyes wide at the possible consequences of that little tidbit of information.

“Shit, when? B... fuck you know-“ She could see his hands tightly gripping the steering wheel, trying to calm himself, as his worry seemed to increase. 

“Trust me… I know, and four weeks ago when you drove me home, you know… When,” Brooke trailed off, as she remembered how she and Vanessa had been all over each other in the back seat that night, while Steve had dutifully looked straight ahead and kept his mouth shut. 

“When? Oh? Oh!” Seeing it slowly daunt on his face was entertaining, the way his eyes widened and a slight blush appeared on his cheeks, “Damn.” His low whistle told her that he remembered that night. 

Brooke nodded and looked out the window, seeing upper Manhattan slowly pass by, trying to find that inner peace she needed to get through this night. 

She could do it. She’d done it for over a decade. She knew how to be Mrs Hytes, knew it like the back of her hand. 

_ It would all be fine. _

“So, are you gonna see her again?” Steve’s question brought her back to reality. Her brows wrinkled in confusion. 

_ He knew about the rules.  _

“I don’t want to drag her into all of  _ this _ ,” she said, waving her arms around trying to keep her voice down, knowing that getting worked up would be detrimental to her night, “so no, I am not going to see her again,” Brooke looked down at her hand, playing with her wedding hand, trying to figure out how the hell she had ended up in this position.

“B...” 

“Enough, Steve. So are we meeting him there or?” She couldn’t spend her time thinking about what could have been or how there was a beautiful woman somewhere in Albany, whose lips and body made her clench her thighs in need. 

Whose smile made her think of something...  _ More. _

She couldn’t think about that right now.

“We’re picking him up,” His words made Vanessa disappear from her mind, as she started to prepare herself for the long rant Patrick would subject her to.

_ Oh, joy. _

* * *

_ Brooke had caught Nina’s eye as she left the bathroom, barely keeping her panic contained. Whatever her face had shown, it seemed to do the trick, as Nina had hurried over to her, dragging her somewhere more quiet away from the other girls.  _

_ “I need to leave,” Brooke’s voice was rushed and panicked. Her mind speeding along, while her feelings were muddled up together. Annoyance, anger and sadness all mixed into a nice pit in her stomach.  _

_ “Honey, I know you hate mini-golf, but even for you that seems a little bit excessive.” Nina’s face was a mixture of concern and mild amusement. _

_ “Patrick called,” Brooke knew that Nina wouldn’t need more explanation, knew that those two words would be enough. She felt her whole body vibrate with something akin to panic.  _

_ Nina tilted her head as the smile fell from her lips, transforming it into that comforting expression she had become a professional at making.  _

_ An expression she had been doing for almost three years now.  _

_ “Brooke...” The quiet way Nina said her name, seemed to break a dam inside of her, the panic making its presence known, as words started to spill out of her mouth.  _

_ “Scarlett fucked up and apparently there’s a really big event tonight. I can’t skip out on. Steve is on his way and I need to… and I knew, I even packed a bag for this and I just- fuck…. I need to,” The words started to tumble over each other, her lungs feeling too small and constricting as she felt the dread and anger overtake her.  _

_ As Nina grabbed her hands, she could feel them shake. She knew she was having a panic attack. She knew that it would all end, that she would soon be able to breathe again.  _

_ Just because it felt like she was dying, didn't mean that it was actually happening.  _

_ She knew this. _

_ Her breath, however, was still erratic, and Brooke knew that she needed to start taking in air, or this would not go over well; but she kept on choking on the air, as if her mind and body couldn’t agree on a rhythm that would result in air being accepted back into her lungs.  _

_ “You need to breathe, first of all.” Nina’s voice was soothing, calm and slow. She had done this countless of times. Brooke having suffered from anxiety way before Patrick was a part of her life. The fact that Nina was used to it, didn’t mean that it got less painful having to witness her best friend of almost two decades feel suffer this way.  _

_ “Shh, just in and out.” She exaggerated her own breath, trying to get Brooke to follow her. Squeezing her fingers to bring her back to reality and out of her head. She kept a small and encouraging smile on her face, meeting Brooke’s panicked eyes with nothing but tenderness and warmth.  _

_ Slowly.  _

_ Brooke’s breath started to normalise, slowly.  _

_ “Yeah. Just like that,” Nina let go of a hand to slowly catch a lone tear that was travelling down Brooke’s cheek.  _

_ “I knew it. I knew he would call or text. It had been way too quiet for too long,” Brooke started talking again, needing to rant through her feelings, so she could get them under control and probably store them in that big box at the back of mind named “Patrick”.  _

_ But she needed to breathe first.  _

_ “Shhhhhh,” Nina softly caressed Brooke’s cheek, wanting her to stop hitching to get any oxygen into her lungs.  _

_ Her eyes seemed to shine with a mixture of anger, annoyance and anxiety. All the big A’s.  _

_ As she nodded slowly after a few minutes of simply breathing, Nina released her hands and instead hugged her closely.  _

_ “Thanks,” the word was whispered tenderly into Nina’s ear, as she felt Brooke hold her a tiny bit tighter before letting go.  _

_ “B, does he even realise that he can’t just expect you to drop everything at a moments notice? Sweetie, you do have your own life,” Nina hated how Patrick had this power over Brooke.  _

_ Hated that her best friend never knew when he could call.  _

_ “You know the agreement, Nina,” Brooke sounded resigned, shrugging one shoulder as she slowly seemed to gain back control over her face, body and emotions.  _

_ Right before her eyes, Nina got to see the transformation from the sad and panicked Brooke from moments to the controlled HBIC Brooke Lynn Hytes, that everyone else saw.  _

_ It was amazing and slightly frightening.  _

_ “And you know what I think about this so-called agreement,” She had yelled about it enough. It was one of the few things that Nina and Brooke just couldn’t find any common ground on.  _

_ It wasn’t that Nina didn’t understand Brooke. She just didn’t agree.  _

_ “I can’t. It would break his heart,” Brooke’s voice was small as she said it.  _

_ “What about your own heart? Huh?” It was so typical of her, to only care about his feelings and just reject her own.  _

_ So self-sacrificing.  _

_ So dumb.  _

_ “That can wait,” Brooke looked directly into Nina’s eyes. The conviction behind her words shone through those big blue eyes.  _

_ It broke Nina’s heart that her best friend cared so little about her own feelings and wants. Always sacrificing herself for the needs of others, even at the expense of her own happiness.  _

_ “Until when? There will always be a new campaign, a new election or event. When will this stop?” Nina felt like a broken record at this point. She knew Brooke wouldn’t listen to her, knew that she would keep on going.  _

_ But she could hope.  _

_ Even if she left today, there might be a time when Brooke would finally say no. Finally, listen to her own feelings first and his second. _

_ “Until he retires.” _

* * *

Steve was whistling softly to himself, trying not to keep checking up on the two people sitting in the back of the sleek black Audi. Having worked with and for the Hytes for the last decade, he had been unfortunate enough to have a front seat to all the events that had happened. 

He had been there for the wedding, for the election, for the almost divorce and … He had been there the last three years for whatever  _ this  _ was _ .  _

It was weird to witness the coldness and professionality that Brooke and Patrick showed each other whenever they were alone or in the presence of only Steve. 

Five years ago, they would have been holding hands and talking about whatever thought that popped into their heads.

Now they sounded like they were strategizing. 

“Bill’s daughter just started at Yale Law. Remember to ask Darlene about that and-” Patrick was scrolling through something on his phone, not give Brooke a single glance, whatever happening there more important than his wife. 

“Their son is taking a gap year going through Europe, I should be enthusiastic but not too much, Dar is worried about him. Diana just came back from Washington after spending weeks trying to lobby for new Medicare legislation - it did not go well, I’ll be sympathetic and encouraging. Honestly, Patrick, I know,” Brooke was staring out the window, the streetlamps bathing her in a soft light that made her appear otherworldly. 

Years ago Patrick would have snuck glances at her, awing at her beauty and sighing over his luck. Now his phone seemed more interesting. 

Not that Brooke was any better. She used to hang onto every word he said, marvelling at Patrick’s vision and his view of the world. 

Now she always had an aura of sadness surrounding her whenever  _ he _ was in her vicinity. 

“I just wanted to be sure,” Patrick’s voice was bored, though Steve could see in the rearview mirror that he was smiling at his phone. 

“When have I ever been anything but exemplary at these type of event?” She was beautiful tonight. Steve knew that Patrick had carefully chosen everything. Using Brooke as a blank canvas, turning her into his perfect wife, Mrs Brooke Lynn Isabelle Hytes. 

She was looking at Patrick exasperated, clearly annoyed that he would doubt her. Steve understood that, as Brooke had always been nothing but a professional. A better politician than most, and so very good at playing the game to perfection. 

“Never,” Patrick looked slightly apologetic as he granted her that, though his eyes never left his phone.

“Thought so. Going by the dress code, I am guessing that there’ll be dancing tonight?” Brooke’s purple evening gown worked perfectly with Patrick’s tailored smoking. They looked like a political version of “Brangelina”, something Steve would never tell Brooke. 

She would kill him for even daring to entertain such a thought. 

“It’s Bill,” The laughter that followed from both of them made Steve smile, as it felt like the good old days. 

“Okay. So I’ll dance with you, Bill, probably John and Peter and then maybe you again?” Brooke’s voice seemed bored, a feat given how anxious she had been when he had first picked her up in Albany. 

_ She was too good at playing this game. _

“Let’s end with me for a slow song,” Being able to see how these two had plans for every aspect of any party, was both impressive and frightening. Steve was happy that he and Jon just got married and that was it, none of all this bullshit with expectations, the press and having to uphold a certain level of perfection.

They got to just live their life.

“Of course. Steve? How’s the press?” Brooke caught his eye in the mirror, her whole demeanour slightly softer. She was putting on her southern belle persona, ready to dazzle every one at the Mayor’s birthday party.

“Entrance and then a few official pics inside,” Steve had already checked and double-checked.

“Good. Any idea of when we’re leaving?” Before he had an opportunity to answer her, Patrick quipped back, looked askance at Brooke, a mean spirited grin on his face. 

“Why, you got a hot date?” Steve saw the way Brooke’s face fell. The way it went from soft and pleasant to all angles and anger. 

“Shut the fuck up, Patrick,” The words were hissed and Steve could already tell where all of this was going, especially when Patrick decided that he wasn’t ready to let it go

“Why can’t a husb-” Brooke was looking directly at Patrick, who had a small smile on his lips, looking ready to poke the bear. 

_ These two idiots.  _

“Guys… We’ll be there in a few minutes. Maybe stop with the bickering, and find that marital bliss that you seem to have hidden very deep within?” Steve’s voice rang through the car, making both of them turn away from each other. 

“Yes, Darling. Let’s not embarrass me tonight,” Thankfully, Brooke didn't dignify Patrick's stupid quip with a reply.

_ Thank God, I'm just the driver tonight.  _

* * *

_ Opening the door to their room, Vanjie saw that most of Brooke’s things were already packed, her suitcase lying on the bed, ready to go.  _

_ The light was on in the bathroom, and Vanjie could hear the unmistakable sounds of a woman getting ready.  _

_ “Brooke? You leaving, just cause you ‘fraid imma kick yo ass in white girl golfing?” Her voice seemed to startle Brooke, as she heard something crash, followed by a loud “Shit!” _

_ “You good, mama?”  _

_ “Yeah, give me a minute, Vanessa!” _

_ The way she said her name made a shiver run down Vanjie’s spine. The power that woman held over her was too much. Brooke was dangerous, that much Vanjie knew.  _

_ “It’s fine. I ain’t in no hurry,” Vanjie walked over to her bed and sat down on it, looking over her nails, reminding herself that she needed a new manicure soon. The state of her polish was frankly hateful.  _

_ The door to the bathroom opened, making Vanjie forget about manicures and nails.  _

_ “Sorry. I have to leave, this thing came up and I can’t-” Brooke’s voice turned into static as Vanjie’s mind seemed to break.  _

_ Looking Brooke up and down, Vanjie felt her mouth go dry.  _

_ Her long blonde hair was falling in soft waves, framing Brooke’s sharp yet feminine features that were painted for the gods. Her contour was so well-blended that Vanjie almost wanted to shed a tear.  _

_ She was wearing a see-through black lace bra that made Vanjie glad that she was already sitting down or her legs would have buckled under her. _

_ The black lace thong and thigh highs were almost too much, and Vanjie had to grasp the covers underneath her hands, so Brooke wouldn’t notice that they were honest to God shaken. _

_ Holy. Shit.  _

_ “Vanessa? Do you hear me?” Brooke’s voice brought Vanjie out of her daze, making her eyes snap back up to her face, realising that she had been leering at Brooke for who knows how long.  _

_ “Huh?” Brooke was smirking at her, clearly knowing where her mind had gone. Cocking her hip to the side, making all her curves seem even more enchanting, Vanjie was once again reminded how out of her depth she was with this woman.  _

_ “I asked if you were okay. You zoned out for a bit there,” Her voice held a seductive lilt that stirred something deep inside of Vanjie.  _

_ Vanjie felt powerless against her, and she really didn’t care.  _

_ “Yeah… I just…” the words seemed to have left her, seeing Brooke like that, all hot and seductive, like a woman who was ready to kill a man, slap a bitch and fuck a hoe all within 10 minutes.  _

_ Vanjie didn’t even care anymore. She wanted Brooke. Wanted all of her.  _

_ “You just?” Brooke walked closer to Vanjie, stopping a few feet away from the bed, forcing her to crane her neck to keep holding that the magnetic eye contact.  _

_ “Fuck. Brooke, I want…” Her voice was somehow a bit higher, almost whiny. Vanessa rubbed her thighs against each other seeking some type of friction, but it wasn’t enough.  _

_ “What do you want, Vanessa?” Her voice was breathy, the sound seemed to drape itself all over Vanjie, making her body shiver with need. She looked helplessly into Brooke’s eyes, her mouth dry and unwilling to form any words.  _

_ Brooke looked at her for a second, seemingly pondering something, and then before Vanjie even had the time to realise what was happening, Brooke had dropped herself down into her lap.  _

_ The weight of her body was intoxicating, the warmth from her thighs electrifying, while Vanjie felt overwhelmed by the fact that her mouth was inches away from Brooke’s perfect breasts.  _

_ “I…” Brooke’s hand cupped her cheek, Vanjie leaning into the impossibly soft and warm hand, all her nerve endings working overtime as she felt herself get wetter.  _

_ “I have an hour.”  _

_ “An hour?” Vanjie gulped at the prospect of being at the hands of Brooke for an hour. Knowing where they could take her, knowing how good it could be. Her hands were still tightly clutching at the covers, as she tried to hold back.  _

_ Everything inside of her was itching to touch the milky white skin. To tug and pull. Leave marks and stake her claim.  _

_ Vanjie didn’t know where the fuck this was going, but she was going to enjoy her time with Brooke for as long as she could.  _

_ “A lot can happen in an hour,” Brooke leaned closer, her lips grazing her cheek, teasing her senses, as the softness of her lips made her heart skip a beat.  _

_ Brooke started to slowly grind against her. The movement was so excruciatingly slow that it almost seemed to be unconscious on her part. Though the smirk on her lips told Vanjie that the bitch knew exactly what she was doing.  _

_ “You don’t need to be tellin’ me, Mary. I know how talented them fingers be,” She had dreamt about those fingers. Had gotten herself off to the memory of what they could do. She knew that.  _

_ But that was not what she wanted right now. _

_ Not what she needed.  _

_ “Oh, so that’s what you want?” Brooke’s hand dropped from her face, moving down to slowly unbutton Vanjie's shirt, making her close her eyes for a second, trying to gather herself, to say what she wanted.  _

_ “No.” The word almost had to be forced out her mouth, Vanjie’s body reluctant to dismiss the pleasure of those hands, while her mind was set on something completely different.  _

_ “No?” The hands stopped moving, still missing a couple of buttons, as Brooke leaned back, trying to search Vanjie’s face. She looked confused. _

_ As if the idea of Vanjie saying no to her was preposterous.  _

_ Which frankly, was a fair assessment.  _

_ “I want you to ride my face,” Vanjie leaned forward and started to softly nib at the top of Brooke’s breast, toeing the line of her lacy bra. Her fingers ran over those creamy thighs, feeling them tense underneath her hands.  _

_ “What? ‘Ness, I really don’t need to-” Brooke’s voice trailed off into a moan, as Vanjie’s fingers travelled to her inner thigh, running a single finger over her thong. Feeling how soaked it was.  _

_ “Shh, Mami. Lemme take care of you,” whispering against Brooke’s skin, Vanjie could feel the slight hitch in her chest, coupled with a particularly delicious moan, as she pushed lightly down on against her covered clit.  _

_ A hand suddenly yanked her hair, forcing her head back, so she could look into Brooke’s eyes. They shone with a mix of arousal, want and … Annoyance?  _

_ “You sure, Vanessa?” Vanjie felt as if her body was strung like a bow. Every nerve ending on fire. Her body shaking with need, her brain ready to give Brooke whatever she wanted. Seeing this towering blonde beauty take charge was perhaps the sexiest thing she had ever seen.  _

_ Fuck.  _

_ “Yes,” the word was a moan, was a scream, was a whine. It was everything, the hand in her hair the only thing grounding her, as Brooke seemed to play her body better than a concert pianist getting his hands on a Steinway.  _

_ “Then ask me nicely,” the hand pulling tighter on her hair, while Brooke looked at Vanjie with a questioning expression, daring her to go against her.  _

_ As if Vanjie would.  _

_ Or could. _

_ If she had been more coherent at that moment, she would probably have worried over how much power Brooke already held over her.  _

_ But she didn’t.  _

_ “Please. Please ride my face.” For a moment, everything seemed to stop. Brooke let the words hang in the air for a bit, letting Vanjie stew in her desperation.  _

_ For a single breath, all that existed was Brooke’s undecipherable eyes, as she looked at Vanjie and then...  _

_ Everything seemed to happen all at once, Vanjie only getting a second to register that Brooke’s weight was off her, before she was pulled down to the floor, barely having time to scramble to sit up, before Brooke placed her left leg over her shoulder.  _

_ And then. _

_ Brooke simply pulled her thong to the side and pushed Vanjie’s face right where she wanted it.  _

_ Almost by instinct Vanjie started licking and sucking, as Brooke moved against her face. Her thighs powerful, ensuring that all Vanjie felt, smelled, tasted and wanted was BrookeBrookeBrooke.  _

_ “Just… Like that…” Brooke’s voice was slightly drawn out, as Vanjie started paying attention to her clit.  _

_ Vanjie felt herself get impossibly wetter, as a rush of power surged through her at the soft moans and stuttering breath.  _

_ Her hands trailed up over those creamy smooth thighs, trying to get some leverage, trying to get closer, but Brooke wanted none of that, yanking roughly at her hair, forcing Vanjie’s head back.  _

_ Cutting of their contact, as she forced Vanjie to look her in the eye. _

_ “Oh no, Princess. You wanted me to ride your face, that’s all your getting. Keep those pretty hands to yourself, and get that mouth working, baby.” The nicknames were almost too much, as Vanjie felt herself being pulled deep under Brooke’s spell.  _

_ It made Vanjie want to do better. To make this lesbian wet dream come right on her face. She let Brooke set the pace, as she started sucking on her clit, moaning at the taste of her on her lips.  _

_ “Fuck. Yes…” Brooke’s thighs were warm and slick with sweat, but Vanjie didn’t care. Not one bit.  _

_ She hummed softly, smirking on the inside as the vibrations made Brooke push her face closer whilst the volume of her moans increased.  _

_ The lace from her thong was rubbing against her nose and lips - that fact that she hadn’t even bothered to remove it sending Vanjie to a higher place.  _

_ Fucking hell, this woman.  _

_ “Fuck, I-I…” It was intoxicating, knowing that it was her that was reducing this alpha of a woman to one-syllable words.  _

_ Vanjie sucked harder, feeling Brooke’s thighs clench. _

_ She didn't care that her jaw was hurting, her lungs screaming for air or that her thighs were clenched together, seeking friction that never seemed to come.  _

_ All that mattered was Brooke. Making her moan, making her sigh and making her come.  _

_ With the way her thighs clenched, she knew that Brooke was close, so she softly let her teeth grab at the lace, so it touched right where it was needed.  _

_ “Holy shi-,” and with a moan so loud, that Vanjie feared they would get noise complaints, Brooke came, continuing to ride the waves of pleasure out against her face.  _

_ Vanjie kept on licking and sucking. Dutifully keeping her hands to herself, even though everything inside of her wanted to softly soothe and massage the shaking legs.  _

_ Brooke moved her leg away from Vanjie’s shoulder before she dropped down to the floor next to her.  _

_ She was slick with sweat, though her makeup and hair was still immaculate, which was unfair on multiple levels, as Vanjie knew that she was a right mess. Her hair all over the place and her face still slick from Brooke.  _

_ “Damn Mami, how you still look ready to take over the runway, when I be looking like a used up makeup wipe” Brooke laughed, as she turned to look at Vanjie, who was sitting with her back against the bed.  _

_ “Because I’m stubborn as fuck,” how she managed to sound that cocky and sexy, while still lying on the floor trying to catch her breath was a mystery.  _

_ This fucking bitch.  _

_ “I still have forty minutes. That should be enough to make you come at least twice, don’t you think?” That smirk would be the end of Vanjie, she was absolutely certain.  _

_ This. Fucking. Bitch. _

* * *

Brooke felt uncomfortable. 

The party was slowly winding down, after they had eaten a five-course meal, listened to numerous speeches and talked with everyone who  _ mattered _ . She had danced with every important high-ranking official in the state of New York, including her own husband. 

She knew she was good at playing the game. Amazing at making everyone feel comfortable. It was a skill that Brooke Lynn Hytes had held for many years.

It was probably also why Brooke from the Khiel’s counter was such a bitch.

Because she couldn’t afford to be it anywhere else, but there. 

“Are you even listening to what I am saying?” Patrick’s hissing voice filtered through her stream of consciousness, bringing her back to the present, to them slow dancing, Brooke’s face leaning against his shoulder. 

“Yes, Bill once again gave you a none-answer about next year’s election, while Peter said that he would support your bid and John mentioned that maybe you should wait until next period. I heard,” She always listened. 

She hated how good they were at this type of thing. She knew that they looked stunning on the floor. Knew that she had a soft smile on her lips, while Patrick looked every bit the adoring husband. 

Once upon a time, it hadn’t been a performance, once it had been true. 

No one here would suspect that when the night was over, Patrick would go home to their Penthouse, alone, and probably fuck his secretary, whom he had been together with for the last two years.

The secretary that was practically living with him in the place that Brooke had once called home. 

While Brooke would go home to her own apartment on the upper east side, drink a glass of wine and go to bed. 

Alone. 

“You seem distracted, what’s going on in your head, Darling?” The question made Brooke smirk a bit, though she quickly managed to soften it into something more dignified, something more proper. 

What was she supposed to say? 

_ “I’m just distracted by this beautiful woman that I haven’t stopped thinking about ever since I met her over a month ago,”  _

_ “Oh, I’m a bit fatigued after I made a woman come three times today, sorry Darling,”  _

“I’m just tired, Patrick. That’s all,” Was all Brooke said. 

She couldn’t very well tell him the truth. 

Patrick had been after her from the moment they had arrived, hissing stupid comments about her focus, annoyed that she had forgotten to add the gold belt to the dress, and irritatingly interested in what she had been doing in Albany. 

“You okay?” The sincerity in his voice made Brooke lean her head back to look him in the eye. For a moment she saw the last ten years of her life in them. She saw the happiness, the sadness and the love. 

All that love. 

“Yeah, don’t you worry about me,” she quickly kissed his cheek, slightly warmed at his question. It wasn’t often the old bits of  _ her  _ Patrick peeked out anymore. 

“I always worry,” the words were whispered against her ear, “can’t have you screw up my campaign, now can I?” 

It was only by the skin of her teeth that Brooke managed to keep the smile on her face as his words hit her like a punch to the gut. 

She merely hummed her answer, as she continued to sway around the dancefloor with him. Her purple dress flowing all around her. 

Her body might have been there, in the arms of her husband, at the mayor’s birthday party, looking serene and perfect. 

But her mind? 

Her mind was somewhere in Albany with a sassy woman, who made her feel things she hadn’t ever felt before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... So let's discuss. How are we feeling about Patrick? I can tell you that he looks a bit like Matthew Goode but taller and more all american. 
> 
> Remember to comment your theories and thoughts. I always love to hear from you all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Where the fuck is that dumb lil card, come on Miss Vanjie, we don’t need this today!” Vanjie was mumbling to herself, trying hard not to panic, knowing that it would be a long day if she had also managed to forget her keycard at home. 
> 
> Just as her fingers finally touched a rectangular piece of plastic, a voice made her head snap back up, coming face to face with the woman that had been on her mind ever since she had left her behind at the fancy place in Albany, two days ago.
> 
> “So... apparently Liam had two freshly baked croissants this morning. Who’d have thought?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took some time, but here we are. The next chapter in what is probably gonna be a long as ride.

The wind was blowing Vanjie’s hair all over the placed as she was trying to shift through her bag, searching for her key card. Everything seemed to have gone wrong this morning. 

She hadn’t heard her alarm gone off, which meant that she woke up 30 minutes later than she had intended. Her foundation seemed to be in a pissy mood and just wouldn’t give her the perfect finish. Silky had drunk the last coffee. 

The train left the station just as she was running up the stairs. 

_ Fucking. Monday.  _

On top of all that shittiness, Vanjie still hadn’t had a chance to really shift through what the hell had happened during that retreat in Albany. Her body still felt tingly and warm when she thought about Brooke.

Though, she felt wary over the fact that she had given her a false name at the club, especially since Brooke’s explanation had been stupid. 

It just didn’t feel right. 

The sex, however. That felt right, more than right. 

“Where the fuck is that dumb lil card, come on Miss Vanjie, we don’t need this today!” Vanjie was mumbling to herself, trying hard not to panic, knowing that it would be a long day if she had also managed to forget her keycard at home. 

Just as her fingers finally touched a rectangular piece of plastic, a voice made her head snap back up, coming face to face with the woman that had been on her mind ever since she had left her behind at the fancy place in Albany, two days ago.

“So... apparently Liam had two freshly baked croissants this morning. Who’d have thought?” Brooke was smirking slightly, leaning against the entrance, hair in her signature tight bun, blue eyes hiding behind those big glasses, while she was wearing a black raincoat. She was holding a familiar Starbucks paperback and two paper cups.

“Bitch, if you bought two just to ruin my mornin’, imma make a real big scene. Best believe,” Despite her voice being hard, she knew that she was wearing a large smile, that fact that Brooke was standing there almost too much for Vanjie to handle. 

She had feared that Brooke would simply just ignore her when they got back to work, as she would realise that Vanjie´s busted-ass was way below what a woman Upper East Side needed. 

“Vanessa, how can you think so lowly of me. I bought it for you,” Though Brooke’s smiled was soft and her voice sounded genuine, Vanjie narrowed her eyes, fearing that this high femme goddess was playing a cruel joke on her. 

“Hoe, don’t be playin’ me today,” everything about Brooke, from her perfect makeup to those full lips and those amazing curves, that she knew was hidden beneath that raincoat was making Vanjie feel a bit out of it. 

She still hadn’t had her Dream Girls Kiki Session to figure out 1) what the hell had happened in that hotel room and 2) what the fuck she was supposed to about it. 

“I’m not, I promise. I would never joke about something as a ‘Monday morning pastry fantasy’,” Brooke’s voice sounded sincere but the twinkle in her eye coupled with that stupidly sexy smirk was doing Vanjie in. 

“Real cute, Mami,” Brooke was holding out the paper bag, but Vanjie hesitated for just a moment, before she grabbed the bag, feeling stupid for having even considered declining.

It’s just a fucking croissant, Vanjie. Get it the fuck together. 

“I also got you a coffee. Black with cream?” Vanjie looked at the offered coffee cup, feeling a weird tingle settling deep in the pit of her stomac.h

_ Be still, my beating vagina.  _

She bought me motherfucking coffee.

She was fucked. 

Brooke’s brows were slightly furrowed as if she was somehow offended at Vanjie’s coffee order.

“Why you looking like that? You be expecting something else? That I wanna be having some sugary mocha-frappe-latte bullshit? No, ma'am. I just need a lil cream and then I am ready to be Miss Retail persona of the year!” She snapped her fingers trying to figure out what game Brooke seemed to be playing, while also writing down a note in her mind that she needed to speak to Liam. 

Hoe was just giving out her coffee order out to everyone now?

“I am just amazed and annoyed at the fact that you can drink cream on a regular basis and still look like that, is all,” The way Brooke was looking her up and down made it very difficult to keep up the shitty Monday mood. 

“What you up to?” took a deep sip of her coffee, feeling her body slowly wake up, as she gave Brooke a once over, once again marvelling at how amazing she could look wearing something as simple as a belted black raincoat. 

“Nothing. I just felt like I should apologise for my abrupt departure this weekend,” Brooke’s voice was smooth as she merely raised an eyebrow, her tone the equivalent of a verbal shrug. 

“I thought you already apologised… three times,” Vanjie fought to stay in the present and not remember how she had apologised. 

_ Jesus, she wouldn’t mind being apologised to like that again.  _

“Vanessa. It’s just coffee. Just say thank you,” Brooke’s eyes sparkled with humour, and normally Vanjie would have clapped back at the dominating tone. 

But this was Brooke, and everything about her seemed to make Vanjie’s personal preference to pop off first and ask questions afterwards to disappear. 

All she wanted was to bask in the attention of her. 

Which was why she found herself blushing at the words. 

“Thank you, Brooke,” and simply following the order. 

With a small grin, Brooke simply turned around and walked inside. Leaving Vanjie staring dumbfounded at the closing door, her body a confusing mixture of lust, tiredness and… Happiness?

She took one more sip of her coffee, grateful for the caffeine kick, as she noticed that something was written on the cup. 

** 917-424-2189 - B **

“This fucking bitch,” 

* * *

_ The light from the city that never ever slept cast a soft glow on Brooke. Her makeup was just as immaculate as it had been over 5 hours earlier when she had first gotten into the car, but everything about her screamed exhaustion. From her slumped shoulders to her heavy blinking.  _

_ Patrick, sitting next to her, appeared less collected, his suit jacket draped over his legs, while his once crisp white shirt was wrinkled. His fingers were going in lightning speed over his phone, firing off texts.  _

_ Steve was quiet, trying to appear inconspicuous, not wanting to unsettle the brittle truce that seemed to have settled over the car.  _

_ “Pat? Remember, that we have a dinner on Friday with Dana and Rob,” Brooke’s voice was scratchy from exhaustion, it had been a long day, driving from Albany and having to play the doting wife for hours always left her feeling raw and weak.  _

_ “I have a case,” Still typing away on phone, Patrick merely shrugged.  _

_ “During the day, sure. We’ve already rescheduled twice. It’s getting suspicious now…” Brooke trailed off, hoping that he would catch on and just agree, but as his attention was still focused on his phone, she continued, her voice steely, “honestly, it’s two hours and then we can leave,” She hated how he turned her into this. _

_ How he always cast her as the nagging wife, forcing her to beg and plead, when she was doing all of this for him and his dream.  _

_ “It’s just dinner, can’t you go on your own?” At Patrick’s dismissive tone, Steve tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He could see the glint in Brooke’s eyes and knew that the quiet was well and truly over. _

_ “You want me to attend a couple’s dinner alone? Kind of defeats the purpose, sweetie,” While her voice might have seemed sickly sweet, her eyes were shooting daggers at him.  _

_ The use of pet names was a strong indicator that this was about to get ugly really fast.  _

_ “Then cancel,” it didn’t faze Patrick as he happily continued tapping on his phone, sounding almost annoyed at Brooke for interrupting him. _

_ “With Rob? this close to midterms? You sure about that?” At the mentioning of midterms, he finally looked up at her. The smirk on her lips indicated that she knew she had him.  _

_ For a second or two they just stared at each other. Their wordless communication beyond Steve’s apprehension.  _

_ Guess that’s what happens when you’ve been married for over a decade.  _

_ “Two hours?” The words were heavy with nuances that were impossible to decipher, though Brooke small smile indicated that they were positive.  _

_ Good.  _

_ “You can make up an emergency if it goes on for longer.” Brooke shrugged slightly, turning back to look out the window, her shimmering earrings dangling softly at the movement. _

_ Crisis averted.  _

_ “Fine,” the small annoyed huff from Patrick made Brooke’s face fall. His tone seemed petulant, and Steve could tell that this was going haywire.  _

_ They would arrive at the penthouse in less than 3 minutes.  _

_ Maybe, if Steve was lucky they could get there before anything else happened.  _

_ “Honestly, you make it sound as if I am the one who is forcing you to go,” even though the air con was on a steady and lovely 25 degrees, the interior turned icy at Brooke’s words. “If you would just sign the divorce papers, you’d be free of my nagging, dear,” the tapping stopped.  _

_ Steve gripped the wheel even harder, knowing that it didn’t matter that they would arrive in less than two minutes. This fight was happening, it was clear from Brooke’s set shoulders and the fact that Patrick had put his phone away.  _

_ “Brooke Lynn, we are not getting into this now,” Despite his dismissive tone, Steve could tell that Patrick was spoiling for a fight with the way that he had been goading Brooke the whole drive.  _

_ The small smirk on his lips only served to support that theory.  _

_ “Oh? Afraid to admit that the only reason you’re keeping me around is that I’m good for your numbers?” Her voice was chilly, despite the almost serene look on her face.  _

_ Steve was both amazed and terrified at the acting skills of her. The way she could spit the truth, while still looking like the softest and sweetest woman. Guess that is what happens when you are raised by a family of politicians?  _

_ Steve carefully manoeuvred the car in front of the entrance to the large apartment building in Greenwich, stupidly hoping that they would stop their petty fighting before it got ugly. _

_ “As if you’re not only staying because you’re afraid that I’ll go public, darling,”  _

_ No such luck.  _

_ “You know that’s the only reason I am staying,” Steve could see that Brooke was trying hard to hold onto her last bit of calm. From her fingers tightening clenching the delicate purple chiffon between her fingers to the set of her jaw, she appeared ready to strike at the right moment.  _

_ “Then quit complaining or I might just let something slip,” Patrick’s words were softly spoken, as he leaned closer to Brooke.  _

_ The threat once again reminded Steve of the precarious situation that his employers and friends had placed themselves in. The web of lies was too intricate to undo - both of them losing if they didn’t manage to end this in a perfect way.  _

_ Still. _

_ Seeing that way that all the fight seemed to leave Brooke as Patrick’s words made Steve angry.  _

_ “Patrick please, you won’t,” though her words seemed aloof and almost cocky, Steve clocked the slight vibrato in her tone - betraying her worry.  _

_ It seemed that Patrick also picked up on it.  _

_ “You sure about that? Think about your poor old daddy. How’s he gonna cope with his good southern belle of daughter being a dyke? His precious little Bella going against the words of God? You think that will go over well with his constituency?” Looking in the rearview mirror, Steve could see Brooke’s shocked face at the words.  _

_ It took every ounce of Steve’s self-control to keep quiet.  _

_ “I’m bisexual, you prick,” Brooke’s voice was loud. Her facade cracked right open, her anger seeping out, as she switched over from the ridiculous and patronising use of pet names to just straight-up calling names. Almost spitting the word into his face.  _

_ “You really think that matters in Tennessee?” Patrick didn’t even blink as countered her outburst. _

_ The words made Brooke lean back in her seat as if she had been struck. Her mouth open and closing, as she tried to find something to say back, knowing that she couldn’t.  _

_ Patrick leaned closer to her with a short and huffing laughter, his eyes sparkling with barely held back glee.  _

_ _

_ “Yeah, didn’t think so,” and with that he quickly unclicked his seatbelt and opened the door, leaving the car with a flourish, that was annoyingly stylish. Yet, before the door had even closed, he leaned back in. _

_ “Oh, one last thing. Next time just tell me the truth, Brooke Lynn. I know how you look after you’ve been fucked-” his smarmy voice was interrupted by the angry tenor of Brooke, though it was craftily covered in a sugary sweet coating, that made Steve’s whole body shiver.  _

_ “Really? You remember that far back, dear?” Patrick didn’t even seem to note the interruption, as he went on.  _

_ “-And going by the stupid glow on your face, you went to Albany with your newest piece of entertainment,” he tutted a bit at her, which only seemed to annoyed Brooke even more. “Really, Darling. Must you be so desperate?” With a small bop on her nose, he leaned back. _

_ “Patrick, could we pl-” and shot the car door right in her face.  _

_ Steve took ten seconds to feel the vibe in the air, but Brooke seemed completely frozen on the backseat. So he did what every chauffeur would do.  _

_ He started the car and manoeuvred his way back on the road.  _

_ It took two traffic lights before she leaned back in her seat.  _

_ Three more before she finally talked.  _

_ “Asshole,” the word probably wasn’t meant for Steve to hear, but at this point, he would take any interaction to move on from car fight #397 between these two idiots. _

_ “B, you’re the one who married him,” _

_ “Don’t remind me, Steve. Don’t” _

* * *

Coming back to work after a weekend was always such a hassle. Especially if the bitches that had been at work the day before hadn’t restocked. 

_ Fucking Kandy and Serena.  _

She was slowly refilling all the lipsticks, once again marvelling at the fact that all their customers were basic hoes, who only cared about red lipstick. 

There be more to life than Red Russian, my peeps. 

“So lemme just get this straight. Your Lesbian Dreamboat gave you her number, and you honest to God still be thinkin’ about ghostin’ her?” Silky’s voice made her look up from the mess of black lipstick cases lying in front of her. 

_ Really MAC? It that difficult to colour code that shit? _

Silky was looking at her expectantly, as she rearranged the foundations on the stand, but before she had the chance to answer her, Vanjie’s shoulder was softly bumped, making her turn to look at A’keria. 

Her mug was, as always, out of this world. Purples and golds making her shimmer and shine brighter than an upper-class Christmas tree. 

“What y’all be talking bout? We got shits to do before opening up this joint!” Her unimpressed look was pure ‘I hate that I am the manager of this team’ realness, which was one she sent them about four times on average per shift. 

“It’s nothing Kiki, Silk is just-” Vanjie tried to quickly shut down the conversation, but Silky interrupted her.

“It ain’t nothing, Mary!” A pointed finger in Vanjie direction, made her close her mouth, resigning herself to the fact that this situationship thing with Brooke was now a Dream Girls matter. “Kiki, help me talk some sense into little Miss Vanjie here. You remember her going on and on about Miss Seven?” Silky turned all her focus to A’keria, not even looking over at Vanji anymore.

She should have known that trying to keep the situation with Brooke from A’keria was going to fail, especially since Silky already knew, and that loudmouthed hoe was leakier than a shitty pasta sieve. 

“Uh-uh?” Kiki dragged one of the chairs intended for the customers over to the counter, her complaints about them not doing their jobs instantly forgotten at the prospect of new gossip. 

“Well, she met her again,” Seeing the way A’keria was interested had made Silky lean closer, getting into her role of being a storyteller, knowing that Kiki would eat it all up. 

“Gurl, she gave you eight this time?” The waggling of her brows and low whistle made Vanjie bristle and turn back to sorting through the lipsticks in front of her. 

“I hate you both,” her low mutter was ignored, as Silky got on with the story. 

“Nah, she gave Vanj her number,” Silky lightly skipped over the fact that Vanjie and Brooke had already had sex. 

A lot of it. 

In fact, Silky still hadn’t mentioned Brooke’s name.

It made Vanjie look back up, luckily catching her friend’s eye and mouthing a soft ‘thank you!” to her. 

“Yas bitch, white girl be wanting more of the Latina puss,” her ecstatic tone made Vanjie roll her eyes while she restocked a new sending of Ruby Woo.

“Y’all….” She really wanted this conversation to be over, so she could go back to overthinking the phone number that was now coded into her phone.

“Yeah, but listen, our stupid ass friend is thinkin’ bout ghosting her white lesbian dream girl,” Silky once again waved her off, as she looked expectantly at A’keria. 

Vanjie kept on finding some order in all the lipsticks, until she realised that her friends had been quiet for a while, looking at them, she noticed the unimpressed stare that Kiki was sending her. 

It was the classic  _ Why You A Stupid Hoe _ look. It always made Vanjie feel like a five-year-old, that was dealing with her mother’s disappointment. Silky’s sly grin made it clear that this was what she had hoped for from the very beginning.

“Kiki, c’mon… What would a classy Stepford mama be wanting with me? I ain’t some type of mid-life crisis experience,” Vanjie left behind her pile of identical lipsticks and walked over to where they were both gossiping, “she want Miss Vanjie, she gon’ work for it,” She tried to look confident and blasé, hoping that it would shut down the conversation fast.

“Tell her how you got her number,” Trust Silky, to not let it fucking go, as she butted in, making Vanjie clench her fists in a valiant effort to not slap a hoe.

“Ain’t important, bitch,” she hissed the words out, stupidly hoping that the ground would swallow her up, so she wouldn’t have to deal with the conversation. 

“Then I will! Lucky Lady Seven showed up with a croissant and coffee before work,” Silky was almost jumping in excitement. If it hadn’t been at her own expense, Vanjie would have smiled at her friend’s antics. 

“Guuuuuurl,” Kiki dragged the word out, knowing that you didn’t fuck with Vanjie and her croissants. 

“And then the bitch her number on the paper cup, and just went on with her day,” Silky made Brooke out to be this power top of a woman when she told the story, and it annoyed Vanjie.

Because she was right.

Fuck. 

“‘Ness, if you don’t call her, I will. I might not be into the ladies, but an orgasm be an orgasm, and this wonder of a woman seems to deliver both that and motherfucking carbs,” Vanjie didn’t know what was most annoying, the fact that her friends were fucking idiots or that they were right. 

Both. 

Definitely both. 

“I hate you both,” She stated in a loud voice, throwing an empty product case after Silky. 

It was done half-heartedly, though. Because they were right, she should just text Brooke. You didn’t turn down sex that good. 

You just didn’t. 

“Love you too, boo. Now go text your new lady friend before we gots to help some white hoes figure out if they be pale as shit or pale as fuck,” Silky and Kiki’s laughter followed her, as she went over to grab her phone, knowing that they wouldn’t leave her alone until she had texted her. 

* * *

_ ** How come i have to be the one to text, when i know u got my number? - V ** _

_ ** How do you feel about Italian? - B ** _

_ ** We talkin’ food or ladies? - V ** _

_ ** It’s a yes to both tho - V ** _

_ ** My place, tonight? - B ** _

_ ** Time? - V ** _

_ ** 7 pm? - B ** _

_ ** Cya - V ** _

* * *

The large windows had a beautiful view of New York’s skyline. The apartment was high enough up that the city appeared less chaotic and more beautiful. Soft acoustic music was playing, as the warm lights of the spacious living room created a homey atmosphere that often wasn’t present in this apartment. 

The minimalist interior done in whites, beiges and greys usually mirrored the coldness projected by its inhabitant when viewed in daylight. Yet, tonight everything had a welcoming glow. 

Though that didn’t seem to have any effect on Brooke, who was pacing the length of the living room, cigarette in one hand while the other tightly held a large wine glass. 

“What am I doing, what am I doing, what the fuck am I doing?” the mantra was low and almost hypnotic. She had done this for over ten minutes, going through four cigarettes in that time. 

A new record for her. 

She didn’t know why she was stressing out so much. She had had women over before - fuck, she had even had Vanessa over before. 

Yet, maybe it was the fact that she wasn’t drunk, this wasn’t on the tail-end of a night at the club and also…

She had invited her over for dinner. Sure, the sex was implicitly implied, but…

She, Brooke Lynn Hytes, had invited Vanessa. To her apartment. For dinner. 

“What the fuck was I thinking?” It was a question she asked herself ever since she had left Vanessa standing outside the entrance at work. 

Despite her worry, she hadn’t once considered the idea of cancelling the … date? 

She was too drawn to Vanessa.

She needed to see her again, talk with her again. 

Fuck her again. 

The knock at the door made her freeze in the middle of the living room. She quickly set down the wine glass of the dinner table, stubbing out her cigarette in the nearby ashtray. 

She took a minute to gather herself. She couldn’t appear frazzled. 

Not in front of Vanessa. 

Calmly walking over to her front door, she assuredly opened it, coming face to face with the beauty that was Vanessa. 

She didn’t greet her, but hungrily let her eyes roam all over her, feeling her body wake up from its nervous slumber at the deep cut of the tight dress. 

Brooke didn’t feel embarrassed at her blatant ogling, knowing that Vanessa was doing the same to her.

“Hello Vanessa,” Brooke took her hand and tugged her inside, quickly closing the door and in a matter of seconds had her pushed against it. Vanessa went willingly, looking at Brooke with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted in what appeared to be a tantalizing mixture of surprise and arousal. 

“Hey B,” the way her eyes kept on going from Brooke's eyes to her lips was all the invitation she needed, as she leaned down and kissed her lips. 

Softly. 

Slowly. 

She felt Vanessa try to push back, to deepen the kiss, but she forced it to stay sweet and short. 

The huff of annoyance against her lips made Brooke smirk, as she leaned back. 

“So impatient. We have the whole night, Vanessa.” And with that, she turned around and walked towards the kitchen. 

She didn’t look back at Vanessa.

There was no need. 

Brooke knew that she would follow her. 

* * *

_ “So to sum it all up. Patrick is still an Idiot. You still won’t listen to reason, oh and also you’re seeing Vanjie again? Have I forgotten anything?” Nina looked tiredly over at Brooke.  _

_ They were once again having their regular 10 o’clock coffee and talk session.  _

_ Though Nina felt that her caramel cappuccino tasted less of caffeine goodness and more of sugary worry, as she thought about the mess that was her best friend’s life.  _

_ “Nope. That’s all,” Nina could see through Brooke’s false nonchalance. She hit it well behind her perfect makeup, large glasses and tight bun, but underneath it all, she was frazzled.  _

_ The tight grip on the paper cup, the nervous tapping on her heel against the floor and tightness of her shoulders all spoke of a different tale.  _

_ Brooke was nervous. _

_ “Holy shit, you like her,” Nina couldn’t keep the amazement out of her voice since the surprise at seeing Brooke like this was almost too much for her.  _

_ “Of course I do, she’s gorgeous,” Brooke tried to wave it off with a scoff, but Nina saw right through her.  _

_ She could unsee it now.  _

_ “No… You like… Like her,” rationally Nina knew that this wasn’t an ideal situation. She knew that Brooke was not really in a situation where it was possible for her to like someone or worse fall in love with them.  _

_ Still… Nina hadn’t seen her best friend like this in years. In fact, the last time she saw this type of nervousness was back in the day when she first started dating, well. Patrick.  _

_ “Nina. We are both over 33 years old, also. How could I like her? I’ve only met her a couple of times and… Fucked her,” Brooke’s pause was telling, as it indicated that she didn’t like using the crass word about her times with Vanessa.  _

_ Interesting. _

_ “You never have sex with a woman more than once. You haven’t since this whole thing started,” Nina kept on pushing, placing her cappuccino on her desk, as she leaned forward.  _

_ “I was horny, and she was there. It was convenient,” Nina was almost amazed at the way Brooke managed to keep a straight face while spitting out such lies.  _

_ “Bullshit.” Whatever argument that had been ready to leave Brooke’s lips disappeared at Nina’s no-nonsense voice.  _

_ Brooke seemed to fold in on herself, instantly making Nina feel guilty at having called her out.  _

_ “Nina… I-” She trailed off, looking down into her coffee, almost as if she was searching for some answers, “I can’t… Patrick is getting testy with me, and I just…” Her voice was cracking, eyes looking a bit more wet than usual.  _

_ This was such a mess.  _

_ “You need to do what’s right for you, sweetheart,” and with that she got up from her chair, not caring that Brooke abhorred comfort, knowing that her best friend needed a hug.  _

_ Even if she didn’t believe it herself. _

* * *

The dinner table hadn’t been cleaned up, their half-finished food still on the plates. The expensive bottle of red wine was, however, empty and seemed to tell a story of a night filled with equal amounts of good company and nervousness. 

From the table to the bedroom was a trail of clothes that had been thrown in a careless frenzy. 

Vanjie’s moans and whimpers filtered through the air, along with the unmistakable sounds of a creaking bed and the sound of skin against skin. 

“Brooke, please I-” writhing on the bed with Brooke over her, Vanjie was almost delirious. Her naked body was dripping with sweat. 

She shouldn’t still be amazed at the fact that Brooke could reduce her to a whimpering, wanting and trembling mess. She had done enough time at this point that her abilities in the bedroom couldn’t be questioned anymore. 

And yet. 

This was new. This was a whole different tier of sex - a tier that had clearly been hidden from Vanjie until now. 

Until this very moment as Brooke was rutting against her with a strap-on. The moment she had pulled it out from the drawer in her bedside table, Vanjie had known that this would be a long night. 

She felt almost delirious, her body almost vibrating with a need for something, anything, as Brooke had kept her on the edge for what felt like hours and hours. 

Never making her come, but also never giving her body a real reprieve. 

It was horrible. 

It was amazing.

It was so. Fucking. Hot. 

“Shhhhh,” Brooke’s wicked smiled was sending Vanjie, her lips tracing mysterious patterns all over her skin. The tip of the dildo was teasing her, as it had been for a while. 

“Please, please. Brooke-I need-,” her head was fussy, every nerve-ending on fire. She needed more. Some release.

Something. 

“What do you need, baby?” the teasing tilt of her tone was enough to make Vanjie close her eyes in frustration, tears trying to push their way out, her frustration reaching the tipping point. If Brooke didn’t soon do something, anythin-

Clearly sensing Vanjie’s frustration, Brooke leaned forward, guiding the dildo inside her. Filling her up, making her moan at the delicious stretch. 

“Fuck, Mami,” the motion of Brooke’s hips was almost too much. Smooth and precise, her pace leisurely slow. The sensation was so intense. The fact that Brooke’s hands were free to roam all over her body, while she was thrusting into her making her body tingle with need.

Brooke would be the death of her. 

What a death though. 

“You like that?” The controlled pace increased incrementally, making Vanjie’s eyes roll into the back of her head. Being taken by Brooke was a sensation unlike any other - it felt more intimate and way sexier than when she took her apart with her tongue or fingers. 

“You know I do, you sexy motherfucking skyscraper,” the laughter from Brooke didn’t have a single effect on the pace, just as slow and punishing as before. 

The hand on Vanjie’s hip tightened, as Brooke changed the angle, suddenly hitting deeper, each thrust pushing her closer and closer to her climax. 

They were grinding and pushing. Vanjie meeting each thrust, going faster and faster. Their breaths mixed as they were both panting with exertion. 

Vanjie nails dug into Brooke’s skin, urging her forward, trying to make her take her harder. Clinging onto her, as she felt herself get closer and closer. 

“Please, Brooke!” the words were almost ripped from her throat, as Brooke’s hand slowly trailed its way down her body, resting softly right above her clit. 

Right where she needed it. 

“You beg so prettily, Vanessa,” the words were whispered into her ear, the sultry tone almost enough to make come. 

Almost. 

“Please,” words seemed difficult to her as Brooke kept a slow and deep pace, moans escaping her lips. 

She was so fucking close. Strung tight like a bow, she only needed just a little bit more, a touch, a push.

Something.

“Please, make me come,” her voice cracked as she almost screamed at Brooke, desperate.

Brooke’s finger finally made contact with her clit and that was all it took as everything inside of Vanjie seemed to explode into stars and fireworks. Her toes curled in on themselves, while her back arched off the bed, as Brooke slowed down her pace, guiding Vanjie through her orgasm, letting her ride out the waves of pleasure that kept on hitting her. 

She knew that she was babbling, but her brain couldn’t seem to translate them into anything of meaning. As she slowly landed from her flight into the heavens she pushed at Brooke. Her body was overly sensitive. 

Thankfully, she relented and turned over to lie on her side, the strap-on making her look absolutely sinful. 

How the fuck had Vanjie managed to talk this woman into fucking her? 

The small amused smile on those perfect lips, made Vanjie crinkle her brows at her.

“What? I see that smirk, what you be laughing ‘bout, Miss Brooke Lynn?” She was still out of breath, making the worst appear softer. 

“You called me a ‘sexy motherfucking skyscraper’?” Brooke huffed a laugh, placing a soft and sweet kiss on Vanjie’s shoulder, making some indefinable feeling stir inside of her.

She would deal with that later. 

“Bitch, I stand by that,” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're welcome. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wanted Vanessa. Wanted to see where this would go. Wanted to be a couple.
> 
> Brooke wanted to go on dates, to show Vanessa off to her friends and… well, maybe not her family. 
> 
> She wanted Vanessa to be hers. 
> 
> More importantly, she wanted to be Vanessa’s.

The pink hues of the morning sun was a striking sight. The pastel hues made everything softer, prettier. Even New York lost some of its edge when it was graced by a beautiful summer sunrise. 

At 6 AM, New York was up and ready. People on their way to their commute, hurrying along with their smart suits, satchel bags and take away coffee. Stumbling and fumbling as they tried to dodge the annoyingly chipper morning joggers.

High up above on the 23rd floor Brooke was leaning over the rail of her large balcony. Yoga pants on, cigarette in hand and coffee right next to her. 

Up here, the noise seemed quieter, less obnoxious and more pleasing. She looked down below and thought about how these people just went through their lives. 

She felt like a voyeur. The way she could take a moment and just observe, knowing that no one could ever look up and actually notice her. 

It was exhilarating. It was amazing. 

It was horrible. 

Being an observer instead of a participant made her feel trapped, which she probably was. Sure she lived in a spacious apartment, worked a part-time job more for the optics of it than the money. She had a goddamn driver, a trust fund too large to fathom. 

Being Brooke Lynn Isabelle Hytes was supposedly a great gig.

_ Except. _

She was trapped. Living in this luxurious prison created by her own foolishness. 

She had loved Patrick. Some days she even still did. 

She had fallen in love with his bright blue eyes, hopeful expression and his willingness to change the world. 

She had loved him for his warmth, his bright ideas, and to be fair. 

She had loved him because he made her feel loveable. The way he would compliment her, take her on dates. Talk her through her anxiety attacks. Make her melt with a single touch. 

By God, had she loved him.

Their wedding day had been the greatest day of her life. She still remembered how he had cried when she walked down that aisle, her hand gripping her daddy’s arm so tight. 

In hindsight, that day felt wrong.

Which wasn’t fair. 

What had happened after shouldn’t taint that moment of pure joy. 

They couldn’t have known that her injuries, Patrick’s ambitions and… _Lily_… would change all that. 

Even thinking about the name felt like a punch to the stomach as Brooke almost dropped her cigarette. 

She took a deep drag from her cigarette, hoping that the burning sensation of the smoke would settle her nerves, making her feel more grounded. 

She needed to think about something else. 

_ Vanessa. _

Her whole body seemed to almost sway with relief. The memory of brown eyes, caramel skin and that cheeky smile warmed her from the inside out. 

Even if there was a quiet voice in her mind that kept on insisting that what she was doing with Vanessa was dumb and irresponsible on multiple levels, Brooke couldn’t help but feel happy.

The last three weeks had been a whirlwind of sleepovers, bad take-out, long talks and sex.

So much sex.

Brooke never did anything but one-night stands. Never even contemplated doing something more. 

_ Until Vanessa. _

There was just something about her that made Brooke forget every sensible argument against spending time with her. 

Vanessa made her happy.

Something she hadn’t let herself be for almost three years. 

“Now yo bed might be comfortable with them nice sheets and shit, but it is rude to leave a girl all by herself, Mami.” Turning around Brooke was met by the sight of Vanessa clad in only an oversized t-shirt. Her hair a mess, and her eyes tired. Both betraying the long night they had ended up having. 

Vanessa rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sent Brooke a disapproving look, as she noticed the cigarette. 

“You were snoring, I was awake. Seemed better to leave you to it, ‘Ness,” stubbing out her cigarette on the rail she grabbed her now cold coffee and chucked it, knowing that Vanessa would not appreciate a cigarette smelling kiss. 

“You being hateful, B. Come back to bed, it’s 6AM on Tuesday and we both have the day off, honestly,” Her voice was rough, as she leaned against the sliding door. 

Vanessa’s familiarity was both a blessing and a curse. The fact that she felt safe and at home was amazing, yet horrible. 

Brooke knew that this blissful situation between the two of them was running on borrowed time. Patrick always at the back of her mind, always reminding her that she could not have this. 

No matter how much she wanted it. 

And by God, did she want it. She wanted Vanessa. Wanted to see where this would go. Wanted to be a couple.

Brooke wanted to go on dates, to show Vanessa off to her friends and… well, maybe not her family. 

She wanted Vanessa to be hers. 

More importantly, she wanted to be Vanessa’s. 

“Okay, babe. Let’s go back to bed,” 

_ But that would never happen. _

* * *

_ Sitting in their messy living room, Vanjie was staring at the television. Silky and her were going through their regular “Keeping up with the Kardashians” viewing. Eating pizza and talking shit. _

_ Except. _

_ Vanjie hadn’t said a thing. She had been quiet the whole time. Not a single joke about Kim’s butt or Kylie’s lipstick being shit. _

_ Silky was almost impressed, pretty sure that she hadn’t even seen her friend go this long without running her mouth. _

_ Vanjie’s eyes were glazed over, as she was tightly hugging one of the ridiculous frilly and pink pillows that Kiki had once gifted them as a gag. In front of her were a still full wine glass and a half-eaten piece of pizza. _

_ All of that spelt trouble and Silky had waited for too speak up for long enough. _

_ “You been silent the whole goddamn evening, boo. What’s up?” Her voice seemed to pull Vanjie of her trance, as she almost jumped in her seat. _

_ “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me, Silk. I just tired,” Silky rolled her eyes. A tired Vanjie was a talking Vanjie. _

_ So she called Bull. Shit. _

_“That tiredness got anything to do with a long leggy blonde that you been spending a lot of time with lately?” Silky waggled her sharpie painted brows at Vanjie, hoping that mentioning Brooke would get her going. _

_ Instead of causing the usual pink dusting of blush on Vanjie cheeks, Silky’s words made her grip the pillow tighter, while she pointedly avoided Silky’s inquiring gaze. _

_“I just can’t stop thinking about her,” if it wasn’t for the fact that Silky had already muted the television, she wouldn’t have been able to catch Vanjie’s mumbled words._

_"So?” Silky couldn’t hide her grin, knowing that even her voice sounded delighted. She was happy for her friend. Vanjie hadn’t really let herself do more than one night stands ever since she got her feelings hurt by the notorious Dana from Tampa. _

_Silky wanted to dance on the table, happy that Vanjie had finally found someone who seemed to treat her girl right._

_“I like her,” Vanjie buried her face into the pillow, the pink frills making her look like a teenager that was moaning over a boy. _

_“Woman gives you more orgasms than you can count, ‘course you like her,” in fact, Vanjie had been bragging about how good Brooke was. Not just in bed but in seemingly every aspect of life. _

_“No. Silky. I like her,” Vanjie lifted her head as she emphasised her words. The seriousness of her face made Silky’s almost sleazy grin fall from her lips, as she tried to feel the room. _

_“How bad?” _

_“Bad. You don’t understand, Silk. It be messin’ with me. I be at work and my mind all wandering about, thinkin’ bout how her eyes change colours when she happy. Or how her hair shines in that special way in the moonlight.” Vanjie didn’t even seem to realise the words she was saying her eyes glazed over as if she was seeing Brooke in front of her._

_She was gone for that girl._

_“Shit,” _

_“I keep on wanting to text her. All the time. Shit, I almost gone done stole some of her panties and don’t even know why. It’s bad, bitch. Real bad,” almost on autopilot Vanjie leaned forward to grab her forgotten wine glass and chucked down the cheap merlot in one big gulp._

_ “Does it have to be a bad thing, though?” Silky knew that she had to tread lightly when Vanjie was like this. _

_ “She lives on the upper east side… What she gone be doing with a Harlem Hoe like me?” Typical Vanjie to always think about class, completely forgetting that Brooke was working four counters over in the same goddamn department store as herself. _

_ “Shit, you right,” Silky couldn’t help it, Vanjie’s seriousness was too cute, she had to rile up her friend. _

_ Vanjie glared at her, as she threw the pink pillow after her. Thankfully for Silky, she had the worst aim, the pillow flying above her head and landing with a soft thud behind her. _

_ “You is being a hateful hoe!” The mumble and glare was so typical Vanjie that Silky had to laugh. _

_ “Boo, c’mon! Hytes is one lucky bitch to get to spend time with you, and-” _

_ “Shut up,” Vanjie almost shrieked her protest, but Silky just kept on going, not caring. _

_ “-a certain Blonde Russian told me that Miss Hytes has been happy the last couple of weeks,” Silky knew that Vanjie had caught Vanjie’s attention as her eyes widened. _

_ “So?” Vanjie tried to seem unbothered, keeping her face free of any type of emotion. _

_ Too bad that Vanjie was a worse actress than 3-year-old in a nativity play. _

_ Silky clocked the clenching hands and anxious vibrations that was going through her body as easy as she noticed an ill-fitting foundation from Target. _

_ “Vanj, your girl is a straight-up mean ass bitch on the best of days. Her smiling and being happy ain’t something that be happening on the regular,” Silky remembered Katya’s glee as she had mentioned it earlier in the week. She seemed almost giddy with the fact that something or someone had managed to soften the resident bitch of Bloomingdales. _

_ “She ain’t my girl,” Vanjie looked down at her clenched hands, sounding like a small Eeyore. _

_ “But you wish she be?” _

_ “Way too fucking much, Silk” _

* * *

Nina was looking over last quarter’s budget, her brows wrinkling as she tried to make sense of it all. She had half a mind to call up Monét, so she could come down and help Nina makes sense of it all. The numbers almost floating and mixing in front of her eyes. 

Yet, calling up Monét was a whole thing. 

The head of the finance department had a weird effect on her. 99% of the time Nina was the biggest sweetheart in the building. She knew that most of her colleagues called her Miss Congeniality behind her back, a nickname she wore with pride. Yet, whenever she spoke with Monét, something shifted inside of her. 

She turned less friendly, and more flirty. 

Monét had always been overly familiar with her, always flirting to the max, whenever the two of them were together in the same room. It was amazing, it was fun.

And super unprofessional, which was why Nina had taken to eat lunch in her office to avoid meeting Monét in an open forum, afraid of what would happen.

Nina had crushed on Monét ever since the first time she gave her some much-needed assistance with the stack of paychecks that hadn’t made any sense to her.

That was two years ago. 

At this point it was getting ridiculous, Brooke had even told her to just man up and ask Monét out, unfairly guilt-tripping her by stating that she should enjoy the freedom she had, especially since Brooke didn’t have the same opportunities. 

** _ BANG _ **

The loud sound of her door opening almost made her fall off her office chair. Brooke looked every bit the composed and hard-working bitch that Nina had always known her to be. 

The perfect hair, classic and super expensive glasses coupled with the black dress and heels made her look like a woman that would fire you and make you thank her for it. 

But Nina knew what to look for, and she noticed immediately that something was off. 

Brooke’s eyes were frantic, her hands shaking, as quickly closed the door - and locked it - before dumping herself down in the chair in front of Nina’s desk. 

“B? What’s going on,” The way Brooke was breathing did not bode well, the stuttering and gasping a clear indication that something was wrong. 

It was usually a Patrick problem when she was this bad at work. 

“I-I…” The words seemed trapped somewhere in her throat.

Nina quickly got up from her chair and walked around her desk, crouching down next to Brooke’s chair. She could see the telltale signs of a panic attack. From the paleness of her face to the shallow breathing. 

Nina knew that she had to follow Brooke’s direction, which was why she pointedly didn’t touch her, though every single instinct inside of her was screaming at Nina to gather her best friend in her arms and let her ride out the storm in the safety of her embrace. 

“I…” like a stuck record, Brooke seemed unable to move on, her mouth open, but no words escaping.

“Shh, hon. You need to calm down first,” Nina dared to cover one of Brooke’s hands with her own, confirmed in her action when Brooke latched on to it for dear life. 

“No, I think… I really think I’ve fucked up this time,” The panic in her voice broke Nina’s heart. 

If only she could take away some of the pain and anxiety from her best friend. 

“You always think that,” Nina kept her voice quiet, hoping that her own serenity would somehow transfer to Brooke, “and it always turns out to be nothing in the end.” 

_Almost always. _

Nina’s brain was bombarded with every incidence when Brooke’s anxiety had been right, but she shook those thoughts away, none of the relevant right now. 

They could assess the situation after Brooke had escaped the claws of panic that had taken her hostage once again. 

“I am falling in love with her,” the words rang loud, despite Brooke having whispered them. 

Everything seemed to stop. 

For a moment Nina felt as if the breath had been knocked out of. Out of all the things that she had thought might have been the cause of this panic attack, this was very far down her list. 

Nina was so surprised that she didn’t manage to say a word before Brooke continued. 

“Which is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I can’t fall in love with her. She deserves better. I am a mess. I cannot and I will not drag her into this mess with Patrick. He will... Fuck, he’ll destroy her,” 

“Brooke,” 

“He’ll make Bianca write some sleazy and lying article about her, or maybe he’ll just show up at her doorstep or-”

“Brooke-”

“-or he’ll-”

“-sweetie, stop!” Nina almost yelled the words, hoping that she could stop Brooke from her continuous descent into an inescapable thought spiral. 

That seemed to do the trick as Brooke paused, her mouth closed and her gaze finally settled on Nina. Her lower lip started to quiver with held back words, her shoulders shaking from holding back devastating sobs. 

Nina knew what was going to happen as those big, blue eyes started to flood over with tears. 

A small part of her mind noted how even in sadness and panic Brooke managed to look every bit the stately upper-class woman that Nina knew her to be. 

The rest of her focused on the utter anguish that was painted all over her best friend’s face. 

“I can’t be with her, I can’t-” a loud sob escaped Brooke’s lips and she leaned forward in her chair, her body breaking through her usual iron-clad control. 

The sobs felt like stabs to Nina’s heart. She hated seeing Brooke like this. Hated that she couldn’t be happy about finally having found someone that made her smile. 

It wasn’t fair. None of it was. 

“Shhhh…” The unsteady breathing pattern and the painful sound of Brooke’s sobs worried Nina. She knew that if she didn’t help Brooke get it under control she would start hyperventilating, and then this situation would go from DEFCON 5 to a 1. 

“But I want to-” the sobs kept on wrecking through her body, Nina softly rubbing hoping it would give her some sense of comfort “-so much.” 

“I know,” 

“I want her to know everything, but if I tell her, she’ll leave,” Nina wasn’t so sure about that. She had kept an eye on Vanjie the last couple of weeks, and had noticed the way she seemed to light up whenever she crossed paths with Brooke. 

“Honey,” 

Maybe Vanjie would understand. Maybe she would be the one. 

“I want to tell her about… I want… FUCK!” Brooke jumped up from the chair, starting to pace Nina’s office, her hands wringing themselves together - probably to keep them from shaking. 

Nina started to rise from her position next to the chair, knowing that Brooke was soon reaching a point of no return. 

If Nina didn’t manage to get Brooke out of her mind, she would soon have to call Steve. 

She hated to admit it, but Steve was better than her at calming down Brooke when she was like this. 

“I want to tell her about Lily,” Brooke stopped and looked directly at Nina. The tears were flowing freely, her mascara creating dark tracks down her cheeks. 

Nina had no words. 

It had been years since Brooke had uttered that name in her presence. In fact, she knew that there were only two people in Brooke’s life that could mention that name without causing havoc. 

Steve and Patrick. 

Because they had been there.

_They understood. They knew._

As much as Nina had been there afterwards. Had almost chained herself to Brooke’s hospital bed, stayed on the couch in the penthouse and let Brooke cry on her shoulder for hours.

Nina hadn’t been _there_ when it happened. 

She wanted to help Brooke through the sorrow, pain and heartbreak, but she couldn’t. 

Not really. 

No one probably could. 

“Isn’t that crazy? Isn’t that the most insane thing? Not only do I want to dump the fact that I am married onto her, but I also want to talk about my d-” 

“You should talk with Patrick, B!” Brooke was not seeing the option she had right in front of her. 

Telling him that she had actually moved on might work. 

“I can’t,” the resignation in her voice was almost too much to bear for Nina. Though she subconsciously picked up on the fact that Brooke seemed to have gotten her breathing a bit more under control. 

“You won’t know until you’ve tried-” Brooked walked past Nina and sat down in the chair, cutting her off.

“No, he made it pretty clear that me having someone in my life is not okay,” Nina knew that this whole deal was wrong, but that didn’t fit with the Patrick she knew. 

“What? Explain. I thought you two had a deal?” 

* * *

_For some reason, Patrick had followed her into her apartment after dinner. He claimed that he had something important that he wanted to speak with her about. _

_Something so important, that even Steve wasn’t allowed to hear about it, which to Brooke seemed shady and very improbable. _

_But they had had a lovely dinner with Kim and Andy, and Brooke might have been delightfully buzzed from the lovely pinot noir that had been served at the restaurant. So she didn’t give that much thought. _

_The moment she entered her hallway she kicked off her shoes and took off her jacket. Her feet had been aching the whole night, after having had a long shift and then forcing her feet into her beautiful but painful Louboutins. _

_ They might have been pretty, but by God did they hurt. _

_“So, you wanted to talk?” She spun around on the spot almost tripping on her own feet. Her nylons and the glossy floor, not a good combination. _

_Looking into his beautiful blue eyes, she felt her head beat faster. It wasn’t often. But sometimes._

_For a single second, she was reminded of her husband. She could see him stand in front of her and she saw that future._

_Of him and her._

_The Hytes. _

_She saw them getting old together._

_Saw them getting over all of this bullshit that happened over the last three years. _

_Only for a second, though. _

_Something always happened to make it disappear, and tonight was no different, as Patrick’s eyes shifted down, while the soft smile on his face slowly fell. _

_“What’s that?” his whisper held a hissing quality that made Brooke shiver. She knew that tone. It was never a good sign. _

_“What?” His eyes were focused on a spot on her neck, and her stomach turned to knots as the remembered the large mark she had covered up with concealer earlier that day._

_Had she missed a spot? _

_Patrick walked closer to her. Brooke forced herself not to move, not wanting to give Patrick the satisfaction of feeling in control. _

_His hand touched the side of her neck and she knew that there was no way for her to diffuse this situation. She squared her shoulders, getting ready for what would probably end up being a shouting match. _

_“Is that a fucking hickey? Jesus fucking Christ, Brooke Lynn!” His voice rose, making Brooke’s insides quiver with the memory of how many times she had heard that tone. _

_Back before things had ended, before they had reached this shaky non-agreement of staying together for the optics of it all these fights had usually ended with them having sex. _

_So much sex. _

_ In the living room, against a wall, one memorable time on the balcony. _

_Those days were long gone. _

_Now, these fights ended in hurt feelings and vicious words that only reopened deeper and deeper wounds. _

_The gulf between them only growing wider and wider._

_“Do. Not. Use that tone with me,” Brooke’s voice was sharp, hoping that she could shut this down before it got out of control. She was too drunk for this. _

_So what is she had a hickey? As if anyone would ever think that it hadn’t been Patrick that had done it. _

_No one would even contemplate the idea that it could have been a beautiful, feisty and vibrant woman named Vanessa. _

_“I will, if my wife is acting like a dirty whore in front of our friends,” Patricks’s eyes were like lightning, the glimpse deathly as he almost appeared gleeful in his anger. _

_Normally, Brooke would feed off of his energy. _

_Give as good as she got. _

_She didn’t have it in her tonight. _

_“Fuck off,” Brook was tired. The whole back and forth, the name-calling and the yelling. They were toxic for each other, whenever they fed off each other’s energy. _

_ She didn’t need this. _

_The fact that she had even declined an evening with Vanessa to spent it with Patrick seemed to weigh heavy on her mind. _

_“No, I don’t think I will. What the hell were you thinking?” Typical Patrick to make it seem as if she had done anything on purpose. She couldn’t very well tell Vanessa, that she needed to tone it down with the hickeys because her husband would be pissed if he noticed them. _

_“You don’t get to meddle in my affairs,” _

_“YOU ARE MY WIFE,” the words reverberated throughout the large apartment, hitting Brooke like a slap. She could feel the comeback on the tip of her lips. The yell that wanted to come out. The accusations that she wanted to throw back in his face. _

_But..._

_Maybe it was the alcohol. _

_Maybe it was the anger on Patrick’s face. _

_Maybe it was everything. _

_But Brooke felt the anger slip from her fingers, leaving behind a tiredness that she could feel deep within her bones. _

_So she instead of yelling back, she decided to just let it all go. _

_“My concealer wore off. I’m sorry,” her voice was low and placating. She didn’t want to fight. Not when they had actually had a good evening. _

_Patrick looked almost disappointed that she was letting it all go. His brow wrinkled in a weird mix of surprise and confusion. He dragged a hand over his face, mumbling something unintelligible. _

_“What was that?” _

_“Sorry… I overreacted,” Patrick’s pained face was a clear indication of how hard those words were for him to actually utter. _

_To be honest, Brooke was just as amazed that they had left his lips. _

_“Wait. Did you just apologise to me? Has hell frozen over? Are you dying?” Brooke’s joke seemed to soften the mood as a small smile played on his lips, the minor fight seemingly forgotten. _

_He walked forward and placed a small kiss on her forehead, making her brow crinkle in confusion. Following Patrick’s moods were giving her whiplash. _

_“Very funny, I’ll just call Steve to come to get me,” He backed away and started towards her door. Leaving Brooke in the middle of the living room, befuddled over what the hell had just happened, until she remembered- _

_“Didn’t you have something you wanted to talk about?” he stopped in his tracks, his hands on the door handle. _

_“Oh yeah… It’s not important,” and with that, he left. _

_Brooke stared down at her feet for a moment, knowing that she should probably give them the rest of the night off. Her soles aching. _

_But then again. _

_Fishing out her phone from the clutch in her hand she made a snap decision. _

> _ ** Where are you? - B ** _
> 
> _ ** Evolution - V ** _
> 
> _ ** See you there - B ** _

* * *

As Brooke finished explaining how he had freaked out over the hickey, Nina felt a knot of anger settling in her stomach. 

_What the fuck? _

“But he’s still together with Scarlett, right?” Nina hoped, despite knowing that it was probably futile, that Brooke had misunderstood something. 

That Patrick hadn’t actually been that mad. 

“I am pretty sure that she is living in the penthouse with him,” Brooke’s shrug didn’t help Nina to settle down the anger inside of her. 

Seeing Brooke so calmly talking about a woman living in what was once her home, was weird. 

Yet, it also spoke volumes about how unfair this whole agreement was. 

“So, why can’t you?”

“Because Patrick is having an affair with a woman. That just makes him a douchebag. I am, however, doing something that is wrong in the eyes of God,” Nina hated how Patrick was using Brooke’s family against her. Using the fact that they would probably disown her for even thinking about having sex with a woman, let alone then doing it. 

Brooke continued without even flinching. 

“He can deal with me doing the one stand thing. I think he once called that 'a necessary evil'. But a relationship? Think of the optics Nina. What would the press think, how would I conceal it?” It was clear from the wording and her tone that she was directly quoting Patrick and Nina couldn’t keep quiet anymore. 

“I hate what he’s doing to you,” Nina could feel herself overflowing with outrage, the unfairness of the situation too much to bear for her. 

“Most people would point out that I am doing it to myself, Nins,” In contrast, Brooke was calm. Seemingly resigned. 

Which Nina knew. They’d had this conversation countless of times over the last couple of years. But this was different. 

Brooke hadn’t found someone back then, Brooke wasn’t actively ruining her own happiness for the sake of Patrick’s career. 

“He’s fucking blackmailing you,” 

“I think Patrick would call it tactical litigation,” her shrug was too much to bear, especially when it was coupled with the ridiculous lawyer-speak. 

“Well fuck him and his lawyer jargon. I am calling it like I see it. ” 

“You just cursed. Twice.” Leaning back in her chair, Brooke looked stunned. A small surprised smile on her lips as she shook her head slightly at Nina. 

“Yes, and I stand by it,” 

“Holy shit,” For a moment that looked at each and then suddenly they were laughing. Loud guffaws that made them lean forward holding onto their stomachs. Brooke looked ridiculous with her tear-streaked face as she laughed almost uncontrollably. 

Nina knew that they were both laughing at the absurdity of the situation. Almost as if not laughing would make it all worse. 

Would make them stop for a second and realise the trapped situation Brooke was in. 

Nina knew, as did Brooke that everything would come crashing down at some point. Vanjie would figure out that Brooke was married some way. 

No matter what, it was better if Vanjie found out from Brooke rather than somewhere else. 

* * *

_Brooke exited the Uber and walked slowly up to the entrance to the club. She didn’t even give the long line of people waiting to get in a look. _

_She knew that she would be let in without any fuss. The tight and glittering dress her entrance ticket. _

_The beat from the club reverberated in the asphalt on the street, making Brooke already feel loose and comfortable._

_The prospect of dancing, drinking and Vanessa making her heartbeat in anticipation. _

_The bouncer gave her a single nod and let her through, his eyes trailing all over her body. _

_Brooke would normally hate such behaviour, but in this particular venue, it made her feel powerful and desired. _

_She didn’t stop for a drink, didn’t send a text to let Vanessa know that she had arrived. _

_She simply walked out to the middle of the dance floor and lost herself in the music. _

_Her feet were aching and her mind was still reeling from the weird conversation with Patrick. _

_None of that mattered as she let her body move with the beat._

_She knew she looked good. Could feel the stares and grins. Every single time someone came close to her she would shut them down. _

_She was putting on a show one particular woman. She would wait. _

_Two hands grasped her hips, making Brooke tense for a moment, getting ready to once again dismiss the frisky club-goer, but stopped short at the loud and well-known voice. _

_“Don’t you look good enough to eat?” Brooke could hear the grin even without looking, feeling proud that her tactic had worked. _

_The comeback, however, died on her lips as she spun around coming face to face with Vanessa. _

_Brooke was fucked, figuratively and possibly - most probably - also literally. Despite Vanessa’s tiny size, she exuded power in her thigh-high black leather heels that were strapped to her waist, coupled with her oversized red basketball shirt._

_It was proudly embroidered with the word “Vanjie”, and it made Brooke’s knees weak_

_Brooke felt all her bravado, all her power disappear in an instant as she locked eyes with Vanessa._

_For the first time in years, she didn’t want to be in control, didn’t want to take charge. _

_It was perhaps a mixture of the fight with Patrick, the two glasses of wine and a need to fuck shit up. _

_The reason didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she wanted, no she needed Vanessa to take her. _

_Just for the night. _

* * *

Silky was sitting in the swivel chair, waiting for Asia to finished up with the other customers. Sher had waited too long to get her hair done, using money and time as an excuse. But this morning Vanjie had pushed her out of the door, yelling that she didn’t want to see her ass back in the flat before she got her good weave on. 

Thankfully Asia had an opening. 

“Asia, baby. You got any stupid gossip mags I can read while you be fixin’ this weave?” She needed her fix of trashy gossip, especially since Vanjie seemed to have a weird problem with the magazines. Classic Vanjie, girl could watch reality TV all day long but felt those gossip mags were too invasive. 

_Honestly. _

“Sure boo, just bought the newest US weekly, it be over there.” Asia waved over to the table as she put finishing touches on the woman sitting in front of her. Silky quickly grabbed it and started sifting through the shitty rumours and glossy pictures of a beautiful woman. 

Landing on the regular “Best Dressed” section her eyes went wide. 

What the fuck was Vanjie’s Brooke doing there?

Leaning closer to the pages, she squinted her eyes, hoping beyond hope that her eyes were worse than the ophthalmologist claimed and that she truly couldn’t read without her glasses. 

But not. 

That was Miss Brooke Lynn. She was decked in a classic black jumpsuit, her blonde hair falling in beautiful ways, mug impeccable and walking hand in hand with a smart man in a suit that spoke off a six-figure job coupled with a trust fund bigger than New Jersey. 

_What the hell? _

However, as she read the text underneath Silky felt her stomach drop. 

> ** _ “Once again Mrs Brooke Lynn Hytes, wife to the assistant general attorney, is proving to us all that she is the socialite to watch in this town. In a beautiful black Armani one-shoulder jumpsuit coupled with a classic pair of Louboutins, Hytes looked radiant once again showing the rest of the upper east side how it’s done. Rumour has it that Patrick Hytes might be going for mayor. So feast your eyes, New York, you could be looking at your next First Lady” - Del Rio. _ **

None of it made sense. 

She needed to find Vanjie, and she needed to find her now. 

“Asia. I gots to go. Can we raincheck?” She was up and out of her chair, almost at the door, before Asia even had a chance to answer. 

“Always. You okay?” She looked worriedly at her, probably confused at the speed at which she was leaving. 

“Not a single bit,” 

_ Fuck. _

* * *

_From the moment their eyes had locked in the club Vanjie could tell something was different. The way Brooke seemed almost shy, her eyes softer - almost demure. _

_Vanjie felt a surge of power run through her body at the sight. She knew those signs. Had seen them in multiple women before. _

_They usually indicated a great evening of fucking. _

_But on Brooke? Never. The woman had more top energy in her pinky than most people could ever brag about having throughout a whole life. She exuded power from her toes to her head. _

_Vanjie loved it. _

_ Loved that Brooke was in charge, that she was the one who guided and took Vanjie places she had never gone before. _

_Loved it. Craved it._

_Yet, the prospect of taking Brooke, of being in charge of the lesbian dreamboat, glamazon extraordinár and overall Big Dick Energy woman, was tantalising. _

_Vanjie had felt herself get wet just by the thought of it._

_Which was why she had squared her shoulders, letting her larger than life personality make her taller, more powerful._

_In charge. _

_Without a word, she had simply walked past Brooke, directly out of the club. Vanjie never looked back at her, knowing that she would follow. _

_The clicking of heels behind Vanjie told her that she was right. She quickly ordered and Uber. _

_Still not looking at Brooke. _

_The charged energy was almost too much to handle. _

_“Your place?” Vanjie let the question hang in the air, looking through Instagram, noting that Silky was out being rowdy with A’keria and Detox. _

_“Yes,” Even Brooke’s voice seemed lighter, the slight gasp feeding Vanjie sense of power. _

_Better test its limits._

_“Where your manners at, Mami? Try again,” She turned to look finally look at Brooke, her pink cheeks and blown pupils, making Vanjie feel three inches taller. _

_“Yes, please,” Brooke looked almost lost as if even she was surprised at the way she was acting._

_Vanjie leaned closer to her, grabbing a strand of Brooke’s hair, forcing her to bend down to her level. Brooke’s shallow breathing hit her face, the warmth of it making her smile. _

_“Better,” the word was whispered against those pretty and perfect red lips, but before it turned into a kiss she leaned back, just as their Uber pulled up. _

_The ride back to Brooke’s apartment was tense. Vanjie kept a possessive hand on Brooke’s exposed thigh, slowly caressing the soft skin. _

_ Brooke was shivering. _

_With need and anticipation. _

_Vanjie felt almost high on the power, wanting to enjoy this rare treat of a soft Brooke. Knowing that come morning she would turn right around and fuck her into the madras. _

_The sigh of relief from Brooke as they stopped outside her building made Vanjie chuckle. _

_Did she really think that this would be it?_

_Walking through the foyer, Vanjie was sure to walk behind Brooke. Admiring the distinctly feminine sway to her hips. The way the glittering fabric clung to her curves, making her look sinful. _

_Vanjie still couldn’t believe her luck. _

_Couldn’t believe that this sexy ass bitch had picked a hood rat like her. _

_Walking into the elevator, pressing the button for the 23rd floor, Vanjie could tell that Brooke was ready to collapse from the anticipation. _

_The moment the doors closed she was on her. _

_She forcefully pushed her into the wall, her hands all over her, as she captured Brooke’s lips in a forceful kiss. Taking, not giving. _

_Vanjie bit Brooke’s upper lip only too sooth them over with kisses. _

_“When them doors open, you gon be a good girl and go find that strap for me,” Vanjie kept her voice gruff, her hands trapping Brooke against the wall. _

_“Yes,” the word sounded more like a moan than anything, making Vanjie smile with glee. Brooke was already so far gone. _

_Perfect. _

_“And then I’m gon fuck you until you can’t handle anymore,” Brooke ached against the wall, almost smashing her tits against Vanjie’s face. _

_Not that she was complaining. _

_“Yes,” _

_“And then I’m be making you ride me - even though you don’t want to,” _

_“Yes,” _

_“‘Cause Mami? we going for eight tonight,” Payback was a bitch, and Vanjie was ready to collect. _

_“Fuck,”_

_“You bet,” the ding signalled that they had reached their floor, “now go do as I told you to,” and with a slap to that perfect ass, she let Brooke show her the way. _

_Vanjie’s whole body was vibrating with anticipation. _

* * *

Patrick was staring out the window of his office, looking over the skyline of the city. In his hand he held is 3 o’clock flat white, Scarlet having just brought it in for him. 

He glanced over at his desk, the newest edition of Us Weekly seemingly out of place amidst all the case files and law texts. 

He couldn’t help smiling a bit to himself. 

He could always count on Bianca to pull through, even if she didn’t understand his need for having her write a “best dressed” piece on his wife. 

All he needed was for the right person to read that article, and then everything would be back to normal. 

He had noticed Brooke Lynn’s distraction, the way she seemed glued to her phone and almost daydreaming whenever they were out together. 

He could deal with that. 

_But the hickey? _

That had been too much. 

Something had to be done, and hopefully, he had managed just that. 

* * *

_Sweat was dripping down Brooke’s neck, slowly running over her collarbones and falling down between her breasts. _

_Her skin felt like it was vibrating, oversensitive from the activities of the night. Vanessa hadn't held back. _

_She had seemingly fucked her on every surface of the apartment. _

_The floor. _

_The couch. _

_The kitchen table_

_Against the hallway wall. _

_Next to the bed. _

_Against the mirror_

_On the bed. _

_Brooke couldn’t handle more. Her muscles were screaming from overuse. Her voice was hoarse from all the screaming. _

_Everything was sensitive. _

_She was at that pinnacle of pain and ecstasy. _

_She felt horribly good. _

_And yet._

_ She kept on moving up and down on the purple strap-on. Vanessa’s hands were clearly leaving bruises on her hips, thighs and breasts. _

_S_ _he knew that hickeys were being added to the already growing collection, but she could find it in herself to care. _

_All she felt, all she heard and all she needed was Vanessa. _

_Brooke knew that her moans had long since turned into whines, knew that she was a mess._

_A mess created by the beauty beneath her. _

_Forcing her eyes open she met Vanessa’s gaze. The pure lust in her expression moved Brooke closer to a cliff she couldn’t imagine falling off. _

_Her body was clenching, everything was gorgeous and beautiful pain. _

_“I can’t,” she couldn’t recognise her own voice. The neediness and pure want so far from how she perceived herself. _

_The tired grin on Vanessa’s face only helped to move her body closer. _

_And closer. _

_It seemed that her mind might have given up, but her body was ready. _

_ “Mami, I see how you be shaking. You can give me one more,” a sudden thrust made Brooke lean back with a guttural moan. _

_It was all too much. _

_The wine in her body, Patrick’s words and Vanessa’s body all seemed to come together. _

_All she needed was one more little push. _

_“Be good for me, one more Mami,” _

_Like that. _

_Everything exploded inside of her. For a moment she felt as if she was blinded by the sheer force of her orgasm. _

_Her back arched backwards, an actual scream escaping her lips as she was a mere passenger riding through the waves of painful pleasure. _

_Vanessa kept on thrusting, helping her ride through the continuous ripples of her eight orgasm of the night. _

_Brooke’s body seemed to turn boneless as she gracelessly dropped down beside Vanessa, the pop of the strap-on comically loud. _

_Her mind was quiet, blissfully so. She tried to catch her breath, feeling as if she had run a marathon. Vanessa wasn’t fairing better. _

_“I hope you realise that this means you’ll get nine later,” the words left Brooke’s mouth with great difficulty. _

_The gulp from Vanessa was worth it though. _

_She was definitely falling in love. _

_Something she could worry about later. _

_The sound of the strap-on landing on the floor made, Brooke turned to look at Vanessa, the sweat all over her body coupled with the serene smile on her lips filled Brooke with some indefinable feeling. _

_She had never seen anything as beautiful as Vanessa in that single moment. _

* * *

Vanjie was packing her bags, trying to figure out what she would need for the weekend. Brooke hadn’t been very forthcoming about where they were going. 

Only stating that she should pack a bikini. 

The door banged open, making Vanjie jump. She hadn’t expected Silky to be back already. Usually, when Asia and Silky got together they ended up spending the whole evening together, using the rare opportunity of being able to gossip in private to its fullest.

“Silk? Weren’t you over at Asia’s to get yo weave done?” Vanjie walked out of her room, noticing that Silky’s hair still looked like shit. She was holding some pink magazine in her hand. 

God, if she had run back because some socialite had left her husband, she would smack the bitch over the back of her head.

“I was but-“ Vanjie cut her off before she got going. Really, how could Silky really think that she would give a shit about whatever was in a page six article? 

“That be the result? cause then you be needing yo money back, Mary,” She started to walk back into her room, still confused as to what she should back. 

Brooke was always impeccable in everything she did and Vanjie wanted to reach that level. 

Wanted to impress her. 

Wanted her to see Vanjie as an equal.

_Someone worth loving. _

“Vanj, I-“

“I’m leaving for the weekend. Brooke be takin’ me to some fancy-ass hotel upstate and-.”

“-I don’t know how to-“

“-I think I’m gone tell her. This be the time. We’ve been doing this for a couple months now, and I need to tell her-“

“-she’s married.” The sentence cut through Vanjie’s chatter making her stop right in the middle of her room. Her clothes thrown everywhere, looking as if a hurricane had passed through her closet.

“What?” Her eyes narrowed. 

Silky looked pained. 

Sad. 

But she couldn’t take note of that. Vanjie wouldn’t. 

_It was a joke. _

_It had to be. _

“Brooke Lynn. She be a married hoe. To some fancy-ass lawyer,” The words left Silky’s mouth haltingly as if every word hurt to utter. 

Vanjie felt her heart start to crack. 

The utter sorrow on Silky’s face seemed genuine. 

But no. 

_This couldn’t be true. _

_It couldn’t. _

“Shut up, that ain’t funny,” Silky slowly walked closer to her, as if she was a feral animal that needed to be handled carefully. 

Going by the way her pulse was out of control and her blood seemed to be boiling, Silky probably wasn’t far off the mark. 

“I ain’t trying to be,” her soft tone almost made Vanjie burst into tears then and there. 

But she wouldn’t break. 

Not until she had proof. 

“How you know?” She looked pleadingly into Silky’s eyes, hoping that she would stop this joke now. 

The apologetic folds of her face told Vanjie that such an outcome wasn’t possible. 

Silky wordlessly handed her the folded up magazine in her hand. 

Seeing Brooke’s smiling face looking back at her, made Vanjie collapse onto the floor. 

_Guess she never was on her Brooke’s level to begin with. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the yelling commence.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buckle up for sadness.

Steve was at best only a tiny bit annoyed, but most of all he was amused. He should have known that Brooke and Vanjie would be taking their time. While Brooke was always early to every single appointment, Steve had realised over the last couple of months, that Vanjie seemed to run on her own schedule. 

Still, after having been waiting outside in the car for over twenty minutes, Steve decided to go up and check-up on them. Especially since Brooke wasn’t answering her phone. 

Very un-Brooke. Something that would normally make him worried, but seeing as she was together with Vanjie it probably meant nothing. 

Still. 

As the elevator doors opened onto the 23rd floor, Steve started feeling a weird sense of foreboding. 

It didn’t lessen as the door to Brooke’s apartment was slightly open, something that Steve knew Brooke would never let happen, her anxiety too bad to leave a door open. 

Pushing the door slightly, Steve was met by silence. 

“Brooke? Vanjie? You guys ready to go?” Steve inquired softly, as he walked into the living room. 

Glancing around he noticed an issue of US Weekly on the coffee table. His brows wrinkled in confusion. 

Why would Brooke have that lying around? 

“Brooke?” his call was once again met with silence, making everything inside of Steve freeze with a sense of trepidation. 

Something that sounded similar to a held-back sob, made Steve turn his head towards the bedroom. 

Walking with fast steps he entered the room and was once again met with an empty room, the light coming from the bathroom coupled with what sounded like gasps, made him almost run over to the door. 

“Broo-” 

His voice faltered as Steve felt his heartbreak a little at the sight in front of him. 

Brooke was sitting in the middle of the large bathroom, her eyes appeared unseeing as she tried to force air into her lungs. Steve hurried over to her crouch down in front of her. 

Seeing Brooke mid-panic never got easier, but he knew the routine and knew how to tackle it. 

He had to fight against every instinct inside of him, as he wanted to ask Brooke what had happened. 

Her loud and almost wheezing gasps for breath mirrored the hundred of times Steve had dropped everything in his hands to help bring Brooke back to the present and out of the thought spirals that were dragging her down to a place that she couldn’t herself get out of. 

“Hey, hey, shhh,” leaning down to catch her eyes Steve tried to keep his voice calm, not wanting to add to Brooke’s panicking state. 

“She-” a loud sob forced Brooke to stop, but then, “she knows,”

* * *

_Mentally going through her list of things she needed for the weekend, Brooke was looking at her almost filled to the brim suitcase, checking and rechecking that she had everything. This weekend would be it. _

_She would tell her. Even if her nerves were running high, and she felt like she needed an inhalator to calm down her anxiety, she would tell her. Funny how being married for 12 years means that it’s been a long time since you last had to say “I love you” for the first time to someone. _

_How had 17-year-old Brooke gotten through it without a minor panic attack? _

_The sound of the front door opening, brought Brooke back to reality, a small smile unconsciously finding its way to her lips. _

_“Ness? That you? I’ll just text Steve and tell him we’re ready,” Brooke called out, finding her phone on the bed and sending off a quick text. As she walked out of the bedroom and into the living room she was met by a confusing sight, “Babe? You okay?”_

_Pacing back and forth in the living room, her eyes wide, and body almost vibrating, Vanessa seemed tense. _

_No. Angry? _

_“Where he at?” Vanessa’s voice was dangerously low, her eyes shooting daggers at Brooke as she came to a stop in the middle of the room. The space between them seeming unbreachable._

_The look in her eyes… Brooke had a sinking feeling. _

_But._

_“Steve? I just said-“ Brooke’s confusion was interrupted as Vanessa stalked closer to her. _

_“Your husband? Where he at?” Everything inside of Brooke stopped. The question wasn’t yelled, nor was it cried out. _

_Vanessa looked at Brooke with barely contained rage, her voice calm and steady. _

_It was worse than being yelled at. _

_“I-“ The words wouldn’t leave her mouth, the tight grip of panic already seizing control over Brooke’s body. _

_She wanted to explain, wanted to Vanessa to understand that she truly had planned to tell her. _

_But her voice was lost, a victim to her own powerlessness and anxiety. All she could do was stand back, and let Vanessa tear her apart. _

_“He sitting somewhere jerking off to the two of us? You two into some kinky shit like that?” The words were like daggers, the idea that Brooke was only doing this as a game, too much to handle. _

_Her mouth kept opening and closing, hoping beyond hope that something._

_Anything._

_Would leave her lips. _

_“According to this magazine you’re married to some fancy-ass lawyer. Your wiki, cause holy fuck you have a wiki page, states that y’all been married for 11 years,” the issue of US Weekly was thrown at Brooke._

_How had she not noticed that in Vanessa’s hands until now? The magazine hit her squarely in the chest, Brooke too stunned to even attempt to catch it. _

_Bending down to pick it up, she was met by her own face walking next to Patrick. _

_She could taste bile at the back of her throat. This was not how this was supposed to happen. _

_“You got nothing to say, Mrs Hytes? I remember this night. So you went out with yo mans and got fucked by me after,” Brooke could feel tears burning at eyes. The pure hurt present in Vanessa’s voice too much, too hard, too wrong. _

_Her clenched fists and set jaw told Brooke everything she needed to know. _

_This was it. _

_Small spots were starting to appear in her sight, as she realised that she wasn’t breathing correctly. Brooke took a single step forward but stopped as soon as she noticed that Vanessa stepped back, her tiny fists clenched so hard, that Brooke was afraid she would draw blood. _

_“How many times have you done this? Is there a club? “women fucked by Brooke Lynn Hytes”? and where can I join?” each word felt like a stab to the heart, as Vanessa’s voice turned shakier, a single angry tear falling down her cheek,“My name be Vanjie and she fucked me real good for two months. Took me to the Hamptons, Oh you been too?” The way she said it made Brooke want to crumble onto the floor, the harsh laugh as she angrily wiped away the tear, making her heartbreak into smithereens. _

_“Stop, please,” Brooke begged her, the words rough and painful as if her whole being was fighting against this. Hoping that this was just a bad dream. _

_Knowing that it wasn’t_

_“Oh no, Brooke Lynn. I don’t think I will. Fuck you. Fuck all of this,” A small sob escaped Vanessa, as her lower lip quivered. _

_This was not how this was supposed to happen. _

_“I-” _

_“Shut. Up!” Vanessa stalked right up into Brooke’s personal space, yelling her directly in the face. It took everything inside of Brooke to not fall down on her knees. The raw emotion in her face too much to bear. “You don’t get to talk, you don’t get to decide shit. You be listening and you be listening carefully.” Raising her brows, it seemed like Vanessa was waiting for Brooke to acknowledge her words. _

_A small and shaky nod was all she could manage, but that seemed to be enough. _

_“You disgust me. Now, I don’t know if this be consensual or not between y’all and I don’t give a shit. You betrayed me. Used me. And clearly didn’t give a fuck about me. You might be running back to your lil hubby, laughing bout the Harlem hoe, you toyed with. But know this. You da whore,” Every word lodged itself into Brooke’s skin, becoming an undeniable truth that would follow her from now on. _

_Vanessa was right. _

_“Van-” Her last-ditch effort at trying to salvage this was waved away as Vanessa looked at her with disgust, not even letting her finish. _

_“Fuck you. If you ever talk to me again, I won’t hesitate to call this Del Rio bitch and tell her everything. Bet your husband would love that, huh?” Vanessa looked her up and down, her nose wrinkling and eyes hard. _

_Brooke felt insignificant, Vanessa looking ready to spit at her._

_For a long minute, none of them said a thing. _

_And then Vanessa stalked out of the apartment, the sound of her heels against the hardwood floor filling up the large space. _

_Brooke never heard the door close, as she fell onto the floor in a heap of limbs, tears and broken dreams. _

* * *

Going over the case file, a half-empty container of take-out Chinese next to him, Patrick was looking every bit the hot-shot bachelor lawyer that he was but wasn’t. The warm glow from the overhead light, cast long shadows over the table, as he overlined sentences in the defence’s case. 

He hummed along to the soft jazz playing on the speaker. It was a regular Friday night, just how he liked them. 

The sudden bang of the front door made his head snap up, as Brooke Lynn stormed into the penthouse. The absence of her clicking heels made him frown in confusion. His wife, in flats? 

_Since when?_

Judging by the fury on her face, he had a tentative guess as to why she was there. Leaning back in the chair, he decided that he might as well get comfortable if he was going to get yelled at. 

Brooke Lynn stopped at the other end of the large dinner table, her hands slapping harshly against the dark mahogany. The sound reverberated through the room, drowning out the music for a single moment. 

“I cannot believe you.” Her words were hissed, as her eyes shot arrows at him. 

“And hello to you,” He kept his voice light and indifferent, knowing that it would piss her off even more than if he actually engaged with her. To be honest, he was just happy that she seemed present.

The last month had been draining, as his usual prepared and focused wife had suddenly turned into an absentminded woman, who could barely keep track of the parties they were going to, nor who they were talking to. 

The last drop had been when Bill mentioned that Brooke Lynn seemed bored. 

No fucking way would Patrick let that slide. 

So he had called Bianca. He had made her write that article. Because he knew that the only reason Brooke Lynn was distracted was that she was being stupid. 

Spending time with people that she really shouldn’t. 

“You fucking asshole,” Judging by her set jaw, clear eyes and clenched fists, Patrick could tell that whatever had happened, he had succeeded. A small part of his mind noted that underneath all the anger was a feeling of deep sorrow. 

Only a small part, though. 

“What are we yelling about today, Brooke Lynn?” sparing the file in front of him a longing look, wishing that he could go back to his perfect evening instead of squabbling with his wife. 

Before he had time to duck, Brooke Lynn had thrown a magazine after him, hitting him squarely in the chest. Seeing the bold US Weekly logo, a small smile involuntarily started to form on his lips. 

“You made Bianca write that shit,” the coldness in her voice mirrored all other discussions they had engaged in over the years. 

People didn’t call Brooke Lynn Hytes the Ice Queen for nothing. 

“Well, I figured your girl would read idiotic stuff like that since that’s how you usually like them - trashy, loud and obnoxious,” each word seemed to make cut deeper into her skin.

She was compromising everything he - they - had worked for, just because of some woman.

It made him angry. She knew the deal. Had agreed to it almost three years ago and had never tried to get out of it since. 

She knew what he expected of her. 

“Fuck you!” her low hiss made a slow shiver of anger run-up Patrick’s spine. He knew the routine, a dance they had done too many times already.

The two of them were professionals at arguing, and he could feel his body readying itself, his muscles tensing, as he prepared to go into battle.

It was less conscious thought and more muscle memory.

“Very mature, dear,” he almost spat out the words, the endearment added on for effect. He knew it worked, with the way Brooke Lynn’s nose wrinkled with disgust. 

She might be the Ice Queen, but he had spent years battling with and against her. He knew what made her tick. 

“You’ve ruined everything,” Patrick could see the way she was fighting herself. Trying to keep the anger in check, while also packing away all the hurt. 

To most people, she would just look like a woman who was ready to fight, but Patrick knew every line, every freckle, every inch of Brooke Lynn. He knew how she looked when she was angry. 

And this wasn’t it. 

No this. This was her being heartbroken. 

For some reason seeing that type of reaction from her only managed to piss him off even more. He couldn’t believe how stupid she was being. 

“Oh, I’ve ruined everything? You have any idea how much of a mess you’ve been the last couple of weeks? Huh?” He got up from his chair and moved towards her, his anger making itself known, as he was reminded of her carelessness. 

The fact that she couldn’t see that she was compromising everything, enough to make his blood boil. 

“Jesus, Lynn. You’ve shown up to dinners with hickeys on display, you’ve forgotten plans, declined events and daydreamed during speeches. I had to hear from Bill… BILL! That you’ve seemed bored lately and that he was worried about you. Do you have any idea about what you’re doing?” He knew that he was letting his emotions get the best of him. That his worry and stress was being transformed into pure anger.

The way Brooke wasn’t backing down, but instead staring him squarely in the face told him, that this would be one of those fights that would take hours and would get them nowhere. 

“Fuck my happiness then, I guess,” The slight twitch at her eyebrow couple with the low and cold tone was a warning sign. 

The particular combination had oftentimes ended in screaming matches, broken vases, and well… 

Really _fantastic_ and angry sex. 

But that was then. 

Now it only served to further his own anger. 

“This isn’t about happiness. This is about the plan and our goal. You’ve known this for years, and you even agreed to it. So don’t play the martyr now, just because the going has gotten a little tough. Honestly, I don’t even understand why you’re this upset,” He shook his head, frankly annoyed by her theatrics. So she lost one of her many one-night stands turned regular. 

“Because I love her!” despite her having almost whispered it, the words felt like a slap. 

Her lower lip quivered as he could see her fighting back tears. Every comeback, every harsh word seemed to die on his lips as he saw the cracks appearing in Brooke’s armour. The hopelessness and pure sorrow in her eyes reminded him of those days.

Of the heartbreak and loss that they had both felt. 

This, however?

This was not a shared pain. This was hers and he had brought it upon her.

Because _he_ was an idiot. 

“Brooke L-” She raised a hand before he got to finish. Some part of him was thankful, as he had no clue what he was going to say. 

“Don’t. Please,” rubbing a hand over her face, she seemed to gather herself, trying to hide her tearful eyes, even if she knew that Patrick has already noticed “I can’t even look at you right now. Just... I’ll see you on Friday for Dana’s birthday,” and with that, she turned around and walked out. Leaving Patrick in the middle of the living room.

The soft jazz was still playing as if nothing had happened. 

“Well, shit.”

* * *

_Her room was a mess. Clothes were still strewn all over the floor and her suitcase lay open and half-filled. Every surface held crumpled up tissues. Vanjie was huddling under four blankets, staring at the wall. _

_After having spent a couple of hours yelling and crying, she had turned to listening to sad ass pop songs, which annoyed the hell out of Silky. _

_And then she just. _

_Stopped. _

_Didn’t want to speak to no one, didn’t want to eat. Didn’t want to do anything. _

_She had called in sick, knowing that Silky wouldn’t rat her out. It was half because she couldn’t move from her bed. _

_Her heart too broken, too hurt. _

_And half because she didn’t know what would happen if she came face to face with Brooke. Even just thinking her name made her insides hurt, her eyes water and her blood boil with anger. The emotions were too much._

_The soft knock at her door brought her back to earth, as the door opened slightly, showing a worried A’keria. _

_“Vanjie, baby. It’s been days, come on out?” Her big and warm eyes filled Vanjie with a sense of comfort, it covered her in a way that blankets hadn’t managed to do. _

_Yet, Vanjie couldn’t deal with it. Didn’t want to talk about her feelings. Didn’t want to speak this whole experience into existence. Maybe if she just closed her eyes long enough it would all just be a stupid ass dream, and she would still be going on a weekend retreat. _

_“Fuck off, Kiki,” Pulling the blanket over her head, she hoped that her friend would give up, and simply let her wallow in peace. _

_“I ain’t leaving,” No such luck, A’keria’s no bullshit tone telling Vanjie that this was a lost cause. Kiki was a mother and had more patience than Nina West, and that was saying something. _

_“I don’t want no talking,” Vanjie knew that she sounded like a toddler, that her sour patch child weakling voice would have no effect on auntie Kiki. _

_Didn’t stop her from trying, as she stubbornly stayed hidden by the covers, imagining how Kiki was probably rolling her eyes at her. _

_“I brought wine and Golden Girls,” Vanjie hated how well she knew her. She was a simple hoe. You brought her wine and entertainment, you could almost make Vanjie do anything. _

_Her ADHD ass was vibrating with the need to leave the bed, to do something. Maybe run 5K and die on the route, throw a plate or two onto the floor or…_

_Drink wine with her dream girls and watch some goddamn Golden Girls. _

_Her broken heart didn’t care though. It wanted to sulk without an audience. _

_Her ADHD won. _

_It always did._

_“What wine?” She pulled down the covers a bit, staring at Kiki intently, wanting to check if she was lying to her. _

_“The good shit, ‘cause yo sad ass be deservin’ it. And Silks went out and got you ice cream,” At the mentioning of ice cream, Vanjie stomach rumbled, and she felt betrayed by her body. _

_“Ben & Jerry’s peanut butter cup?” pulling down the covers some more, she noticed a worried Silky standing behind A’keria. For a moment, Vanjie felt bad about all the worry she had put her friend through. She knew how out of depth Silky felt in these situations. _

_Vanjie always felt the world in a bigger way than most. That was great when life was being peaches and cream, rainbows and motherfucking unicorns. Less cool when it was being shittier than shit. _

_“‘Course boo. You ready to come out here?” Vanjie nodded slightly, rising from the bed and putting on her big fluffy robe, “Silk’s weave be looking worse than ever and it ain’t cute. I need my homegirl to come and help me read her to death with me,” A’keria’s laugh was like a balm to her soul. _

_Her dream girls already making her feel better. _

_A’keria bumped her shoulder lovingly, as Vanjie left her room. It was just what she needed. _

_“I still ain’t talking ‘bout any of this, though,” her voice was still hoarse from disuse, but she needed her friends to understand. She couldn’t talk about this. _

_She couldn’t._

_Everything still hurt. From reading that stupid article to Brooke’s shocked expression._

_It was all too much. _

_“I ain’t making you, ‘Ness,” giving her a warm side-hug, A’keria’s words calmed her down. Made her feel okay for just a second. _

_“Okay,” turning towards the living room, her eyes finally settled on Silky, her eyes big and worried. “Now Silk, why you ass still be running around looking like you bought a wig at half price from the mother shitting dollar store?” _

_The scream of outrage could probably be heard all the down on the street, as all three of them cackled loudly. _

_Thank God, she had her dream girls. _

* * *

As she closed the door softly behind her, she was met by the loud and serious notes of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. She almost wanted to scoff at the predictability of it all. 

Trust Brooke Lynn to return to basics when life was treating her unfairly. As she ventured further into the room, she was met with a very Un-Brooke sight. Numerous bottles of wine were left all over the open kitchen and living room. 

All empty, of course. 

Brooke Lynn was a Hayhoe after all, and their family motto might as well have been: “_Never leave a bottle unfinished_,” 

Her phone vibrated in her hand, lighting up with a text notification. 

> _Our children have decided that we are having Cheetos for dinner, and I am weak. Please don’t come home too early, going by what Patrick said, I really think she needs you, Lovely Eyes. - S_

Even though he couldn't see her, she rolled her eyes in exasperation, once again reminded that her husband was an idiot. Yet, she couldn’t stop a small smile coming forward, the thought of her luck, almost too much to handle. 

She continued through the apartment, going directly to the spare room that she knew Brooke had turned into a dance studio.

The door was opened fully, and she could see Brooke jumping and spinning. Her feet in pointe shoes, hair in a tight bun and body decked in black tights and a sports bra. Sweat was dripping down her face. 

She had clearly been at it for ages. 

_Classic Brooke. _

Whenever life gave her any type of lemons, she decided to drink, sulk and dance until the sourness had disappeared from her life. 

She walked slowly over to the doorway, making sure that her shoes couldn’t be heard over the music, and then she simply leaned against the door, waiting for the perfect moment. 

Which came the moment the number ended and Brooke finally stopped to take a breath. 

“Your arabesque is looking sloppy, Ookie” her voice was bored and dry. Brooke didn’t even jump in surprise, but merely looked up at her, looking too tired and done. 

She was lying, of course, Brooke’s arabesque looked as prim and proper as it had back in the day, her sister never having let go of ballet for a single day even though it left her behind in the dirt. 

“And you’ve added two more wrinkles and ten new grey hairs since I last saw you, Vivi,” Violet couldn’t help but laugh, knowing how much of a lie it was. While Brooke had inherited their daddy’s colouring and genes, it seemed that their mother’s genes had all gone to Violet, Her black hair and small stature almost identical to her. 

“Like you’re one to talk,” Brooke did look tired and crinkly. But that had probably more to do with the cigarettes and wine she had consumed over the last few days rather than her age. 

“Seriously. What are you doing here, Violet?” Wiping a hand across her forehead, catching droplets of sweat, Brooke looked at her with cold eyes, immediately reminding Violet of the hundred of times, they had been standing in this position. 

Brooke Lynn in some state of heartbreak and Violet there to pick up the pieces. 

“Imagine my surprise when my brother-in-law texts my husband, saying that I need to go and check up on my beloved sister-” at the mere mentioning of Patrick, Brooke groaned loudly, as she walked over the stereo, shutting off the beginning notes of more Tchaikovsky. 

“Oh god,” 

“-telling me that she is moping around in her large apartment, crying and drinking wine like this is 2009 and having a breakdown is still in vogue,” Violet backed away from the wall, making her way back towards the living room, knowing that Brooke would follow her.

If for nothing else to make sure that she would leave again. 

“Vivi. Leave. Please,” If Violet only had an idea that there was something wrong before, she was sure now.

Brooke never begged.

Especially not with her. 

So she calmly walked over to one of the chairs and delicately plopped herself down.

“I don’t think I will,” Violet dealt with three toddlers every single day, handling a Brooke Lynn Hytes tantrum had nothing against that. 

“I have to go, I don’t have the time for this,” Brooke left her in the chair as she walked towards her bedroom, pointe shoes still on and everything - the idiot.

“I brought wine?” Calling it after her, she looked around the apartment, once again marvelling at how un-Brooke it all was. The white furniture, sharp lines and glass surfaces such an interior-magazine-new-money-aesthetic. The absence of pictures and all the odd little knick-knacks that Brooke once used to collect was glaring to anyone that knew Broock before New York, or even just before everything with Lily had happened. 

But then again, everyone dealt with grief in their own way. 

Some bought a new car, dyed their hair or got a lover. 

Brooke just turned into a shadow of herself. 

“Tempting, but I have to go meet Patrick,” Brooke’s voice echoed through the apartment, making Violet roll her eyes. She would never understand the arrangement that Brooke and Patrick had going on. Why they kept on being married when they both seemed to only barely tolerate each other. 

Sure, Daddy would make a fuss over a divorce, but why should that matter? 

He was back home in Tennessee and Brooke was here. 

“What was the name of that Chinese place? The one with fast delivery?” The way the sound from the bedroom stopped made Violet smile. 

If there was one way to win an argument with Brooke, it was by continuously distracting her. Violet got back up from the chair and started to clean the dinner table. The bottles of wine looking obscene in the otherwise pristine apartment. 

“What, Shang's? But Vi, I have to-” Brooke walked back out, still in her workout clothes sans the shoes, looking confused and wary.

“I think we should get the egg rolls, I bet they’ll go fantastically with the merlot,” Violet ignored her, and musing out loud as she continued putting empty bottles and dirty glasses away. 

Brooke looked stood in the middle of the room, looking confused at her. Violet could tell that she was close to winning this argument. The way her eyes were searching her coupled with her undecided small steps forward and then back. 

“As much as I am loving this sudden burst of…” Waving her hands around Brooke, her tone annoyed, as she searched for the correct term, “sisterhood… I really do have to go,” Violet chuckled lightly as she walked out of the kitchen, towards her sister. 

“Sutan has the girls, and if you think that I spent time talking my husband into taking care of three kids under the age of 7, just for you to ‘_ not have time for me’ _, then you really don’t know me at all, Ookie,” Brooke rolled her eyes at her, opening her mouth ready with what would probably be a perfect counterargument. 

But Violet kept on going, keeping her ace until now. 

“Also, I called my dear” - the word tasted ashy on lips, as she tried hard not to wrinkle her nose at such a lie - “brother-in-law and talked him into giving you the night off,” Looking expectantly at Brooke, she knew that she had won. 

Brooke’s unconvinced grimace didn’t matter. Violet would get her evening off with Chinese takeout, wine and her sister’s whining. 

“I don’t believe you,” 

“If you don’t trust your beloved twin sister,” Violet decided to ignore the loud scoff from Brooke, “You’re welcome to call and confirm my words with the human garbage that is your husband,” She had only ever liked Patrick, because he seemed to accomplish the almost impossible task of making her sister happy.

Yet, now that he seemed to be the root to all of Brooke’s problems, Violet thought very little of him. 

“Be nice, Violet. We can’t all make the right choice at 21,” Which was true. Not everyone could be as lucky as Violet.

She glanced down at the glittering diamond on her hand only to glance up at her sister and noticing the very distinct lack of a ring on her finger. 

_Oh, Brooke. _

“No,” Violet smiled to herself, as Brooke found her phone and rang up Patrick, “_You_ can’t,” 

“Hi… Yeah, So listen my little-” 

“Pfft,” Violet huffed loudly, “The only reason I’d ever be little, is because you’ve gotten fat, Brookie!” Violet couldn’t keep the smile on her face, as Brooke gave her the finger, “6 minutes does not a big sister make, Twinnie dearest,” Violet cackled loudly as Brooke turned her back to her. 

“My little sister is here, claiming that you’ve given me the night off... is that true?” Seeing Brooke transform her voice into that of Brooke Lynn Hytes almost made her want to gag. The softness and mildness of it so different from the coolness of her sister.

Brooke probably didn’t even notice, but her whole body seemed to turn in on itself, her shoulders softening, while her knees bent slightly. 

“Okay… Right, well then I’ll see you… Friday? Yeah, bye,” Finishing the call, Brooke seemed to take a moment to gather herself. Rolling her shoulders back, and standing up straight, she turned around, facing Violet with a tired look.

It was all a front though, Violet clocked the small smile that was fighting against her usual iron-clad control. 

“Right. Guess I am yours to annoy for the evening. But first I need to smoke. You joining me to judge or to be hypocritical?” Brooke walked over towards her balcony, grabbing her pack of menthol cigarettes of the way. 

_Thank god, some things never changed. _

“Honey, I am a mother of three toddlers, who’s been given a night off. Of course, I am going to be smoking,” They both looked at each other for a second before laughing loudly. 

“That’s the spirit,” 

* * *

_Working on a regular Tuesday morning had its perks. One of them came in the form of a leggy blonde, who always arrived with coffee to the whole counter. _

_Except the clock had struck 9:00 and Brooke was still absent. Katya was normally an anxious person, years of being together with Trixie had forced that personal attribute out of her. _

_Yet. Hytes wasn’t one to show up late without using the group chat or even calling in. Nothing. No word, no nothing. _

_To calm herself, she once again rearranged the facial oils, hoping that Brooke has just gotten stuck in traffic or maybe just forgotten to call in. _

_“Chad?” Katya called out, as she saw Chad walking towards the counter, having just come from the weekly managers meeting. _

_“Yeah, hon?” without even been asked, Chad immediately started helping her stocking up, bumping lightly into her shoulder in acknowledgement. _

_“You’ve heard from Brooke?” Katya tried to keep the nervousness out of her voice. Fuck she needed a cigarette to calm herself down._

_Jesus, Zamo. There’s nothing to worry about. _

_“Oh, she’s sick, Shuga will be here in thirty minutes,” Despite Chad’s soft voice and light shrug, Katya found herself knowing over the serum’s that she had just spent ages placing in a perfect line on the count. _

_“Hold up. Brooke Lynn Hytes is sick?” Raising both eyebrows so high that they almost disappeared behind her hairline, she looked over a Chad, hoping that she would give an explanation. _

_“I know,” _

_“Oh no, Mama. That… Are we sure that she isn’t dying?” In the past two years that Katya had worked with Brooke Lynn, she had never heard of her having a single missed shift. The woman was a machine. _

_Between doing charity work, going to all these fancy dinners with her husband and working at Kiehl’s, it was a wonder that Brooke hadn’t cracked under the pressure before. _

_“Yeah, Nina dropped by to tell me that Brooke probably wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week.” _

_The rest of the week? _

_“What? Did Nina look like her best friend was dying?” _

_“Nope. Miss Congeniality was all smiles and professionality,” _

_“Well, shit,” _


	8. Chapter 8

Vanjie was keeping busy. Or more like she was kept busy. A’keria and Silky almost seemed to have planned her days down to the minute. Never really letting her be alone, always finding an excuse for a shared dinner, going to a club, shopping trips or binging Kardashians.

Vanjie loved them for it. 

Loved that they wanted to cheer her up, to take care of her and most importantly, keep her from running into Brooke at work. 

Bitches had been good. Even three weeks after _ that _ day, they had somehow managed to keep her from ever seeing more than a glimpse of blonde hair.

If anything it seemed like Brooke Lynn was trying just as hard to avoid Vanjie. 

_ There were always enough croissants Monday morning, now. _

The closest she had been at running into Brooke had been last Friday, when she had been walking across the Beauty floor, on her way to getting lunch, when she suddenly clocked a specific blonde bun and a click-clack of heels that she knew all too well. Before she had any time to register what she was doing, she dove behind a display of makeup, hitting it with her thigh sending dozens of mascaras rolling over the floor. 

Thankfully, it had been at the Urban Decay counter, Detox merely raising a neon coloured eyebrow at her. 

“Someone you don’t want to see, hon?” her dry voice and unmoving face spoke of botox, cigarettes and disinterest. 

“Nah bitch. Just wanted to get all cosy with yo goods, Mary,” Detox laughed loudly and helped Vanjie collect all the falling makeup, Brooke Lynn thankfully long gone by then. 

If Vanjie was perfectly honest, it felt weird to not see her. For some reason, she had expected to run into Hytes by now. If nothing else she had expected the bitch to text, maybe show up at her apartment to explain. 

Something. 

Anything. 

And yet… Nothing. 

If Vanjie had felt even just a slight twinge of hurt by that, it was not something she would ever admit to. 

All that mattered was that she was surviving. 

Everything still hurt, and most nights she cried herself to sleep, trying to figure out why Brooke Lynn had done that to her. 

But...

She was surviving. 

“Bitch! We goin’ karaoke-ing tonight,” A balled up piece of paper hit the side of her head, drawing her out of her daydreaming. It was almost closing time, meaning that everything was quiet at the counter, Vanjie and Silky mostly just restocking and talking shit. 

“Karaoke?” Silky was shimmying her shoulders, brows wiggling as she danced closer to Vanjie, “Silk, I don’t think I be up for that type of thing,” Vanjie had a date with a bottle of Merlot, Bridget Jones’ Diary and Ben&Jerry’s. 

At least, she thought she did. 

“Hoe, I ain’t askin’, I be tellin’. Me and my girl, Karen from finance, decided that this pussyfooting between Monét and Nina has got to stop,” Silky’s booming voice travelled, making a customer or two turn their head to look over at the counter. 

Not that they cared. 

“Y’all…” Vanjie couldn’t stop a short laugh from escaping her. 

Monét and Nina and their non-existent flirt was a legend among the beauty bitches. Every time the two of them spent any time together, they turned into the biggest flirts. Always touching, always complimenting the other. 

Yet, nothing ever happened. 

They had tried and failed to bring them together over the years. Everything from Christmas parties, at meetings, and during lunch. Nothing ever worked. Both of them too timid and cute. 

The betting pool had reached a considerable amount as more and more got involved. Vanjie had it on good authority that even Michelle and Ru were a part of it. 

“Listen. Zamo and I got it all planned out. We can’t fail. So it gon’ be karaoke night for the whole floor together with them number hoes from upstairs, and-” Vanjie felt everything inside of her run cold at the mentioning of the whole floor, the idea of seeing Hytes in the outside world too much to bear, “-so these two idiots can finally kiss, so both of our Miss Congeniality’s can get together and have cuter babies than anybody else,” Silky seemed pumped, ready to leave work that very minute to turn her plan into reality. 

Vanjie was still frozen, staring unseeingly at the pile of foundations in front of her. 

“Is she gon’ be there,” Silky immediately stopped her dancing, realising that Vanjie was slowly losing it. 

She wouldn’t be able to handle that. Vanjie was a messy drunk on the best of days, throw in the bitch that had broken her heart it would not end well. 

“I checked with Katya and she said the hoe wasn’t gon be there,” Silky’s eyes softened, and Vanjie’s heart warmed at her friend’s thoughtfulness. 

A true ride or die, that one. 

“You best be sure. I don’t want no married bitch there. I ain’t ready for that,” She wasn’t. The idea of seeing Brooke outside of work making her stomach hurt and her heart clench painfully. 

“‘Ness,”

“Don’t be Ness-ing me. She there, I leave,” She gave Silky a hard stare, needing her friend to understand that she was 120% not fucking around on this point. 

“As far as I know, Blondie’s been a pain in the ass and hasn’t joined in on anything for weeks,” Vanjie tried not to care about what Silky said. Tried not to wonder about the true cause of Brooke’s mood. 

Sure, the bitch was standoffish, but not to the Kiehl’s girls - and she usually joined any type of post-work outing if her girl Nina was included. 

“Aight, but-,” 

“If the married tramp be there, you gon’ leave. I hear ya,” 

* * *

_The almost ridiculously large white couch in the spacious living room had a perfect view over the New York skyline, the lights from the skyscrapers spectacular. Not that Violet or Brooke gave the view a single look. _

_Violet looked intently at her sister, who was sprawled over the other end of the couch, giving up any pretence of dignity when in her sister’s company. It had been a long time since she had last seen Brooke like this. _

_So emotional, so out of it. _

_To be fair, Violet was still a bit shell-shocked after Brooke had told her everything. She knew that her sister and Patrick had an agreement. Knew that they both fooled around outside of the marriage. _

_But that Brooke had found someone and that she had fallen in love, only to have it all blow up in the face, before she had a chance to explain anything, was so very quintessentially Brooke. _

_Life had a way of screwing over Brooke every time it seemed like she was finally back on track. _

_Patrick. Lily… And now this Vanessa. _

_“Leave him-” before she even had a chance to finish her sentence, Brooke loudly interjected. _

_“Vi, come on you know that’s not a possibility,” sitting up, pouring herself more wine, Brooke seemed resigned to that - a life of being married to a man she neither loved nor cared for. _

_“Why?” Violet didn’t buy it, as she held out her own empty glass, needing more alcohol to get through this evening. _

_“Daddy would disinherit me,” the southern twang on ‘daddy’ almost made Violet smile, Brooke’s southern accent always present, the moment anything related to home was mentioned. _

_“Dad would never do that… I mean, I married a man that’s 18 years my senior, and according to the family lawyers, I am inexplicably still in the will.” Even if her words were meant to be encouraging, Violet could - even though her alcoholic haze - tell that Brooke’s situation was a bit different. _

_“Oh really? Who are you kidding, Vivi. The moment he hears the words divorce, lesbian and Brooke Lynn Hytes in the same sentence he’ll write me off the list,” the words sounded less like her sister and more like the poison that she had been fed by her asshole of a husband. _

_“Thought you were bisexual,” the moment the words left Violet’s mouth, she knew how irrelevant they were, which was only underlined when Brooke let out a dry laugh, her eyes cold._

_Brooke had always been a World Champion in hiding away her true feelings, using her coldness and beautiful exterior as a shield. _

_Violet had once been a master at deciphering her sister. Now there were layers upon layers of a different woman that Violet didn’t recognise._

_“Like daddy even understands the difference,” the words were mumbled into her wine glass before Brooke took a long sip._

_If they were those sisters, Violet would have hugged her right about now. _

_But they weren’t. _

_“B…” _

_“You know that’s what will happen. On top of that, he’s up for election next year, it wouldn’t look good for the hard-line conservative to suddenly have his daughter on the news being outed when he’s been working against every gay rights legislation since the early ’90s,” Brooke didn’t even raise her voice. The words were spoken like a fact, all calm and almost serene. _

_The worst part of it all was that Brooke was right. _

_Their dad had worked hard for his position, his conservative politics one of the many reasons that Violet only went home for Christmas and birthdays. _

_But Brooke. _

_Brooke had always been the perfect daughter. Everything she had done was to support their father. From who she married, to what type of job she held or didn’t. _

_No way would Brooke ever put her own happiness before their Dad’s. _

_The thought was sobering. Way too sobering. _

_“Fuck… I need more wine for this,” Brooke sent her a half-smirk, rising from the couch with great difficulty. _

_“Me too, Vivi,” And with that she left Violet on the couch, going off in search of more bottles._

_Violet fished her phone up from her pocket, sending off a quick text to Sutan. _

> ** _ It’s bad. I’ll probably stay the night. You were right. She needs me. - V _ **
> 
> ** _ Take your time, Lovely Eyes. I can handle our girls for a single night - S _ **
> 
> ** _ Famous last words, Mr Amrull - V _ **

* * *

Everybody knew that the unofficial Smoking Club of Bloomingdales Beauty met at the back entrance every day at 11 o’clock. It was the perfect moment to slip away from the counter and take 5 minutes to just breathe and bitch about everything and anything. 

The smoking club had four members. Brooke, Katya, Chad and Detox - though on certain days they were gifted by the presence of Fame, the ethereal beauty who worked at the Dior Counter. 

Today was such a day. 

“I thought you had quit, dear,” Brooke’s voice held a lilt of amusement, as she looked pointedly at Fame. Katya’s wheezing laugh making her smile.

Leaning against the wall in a sharp black pantsuit, Fame looked like she was in a fashion spread in vogue, rather than having a simple break at work. 

“Smoking is terrible for your skin,” Fame’s voice was bored, as she looked intently at Brooke, clearly wanting her to quit this line of thinking. 

“Say that to the cigarette in your hand,” Chad’s dry voice made Brooke crack a small smile, as Fame rolled her eyes. She should’ve known better than to think that they would leave her alone. 

“Say that to my darling husband, who is sleeping on the couch for the third day in a row,” taking a pointed drag of her cigarette, Fame looked like a woman who could hold a grudge longer than an ice age.

Brooke found herself sending a thought for the sanity of poor Mr Fame. They all knew that Fame could be pettier than most, a force to be reckoned with and a world champion in passive-aggressive. 

Taking a deep drag of her cigarette, Brooke tried to settle herself. Everything inside of her was barely hanging together. 

She felt like she was walking around in a vacuum, her days consisting of work, smoking, dancing, stuff for Patrick - repeat.

She felt raw as if her heart had been scrubbed clean of all emotions and nothing was left. Nina had spent the last couple of weeks trying to get Brooke to open up, to tell her what was going on. 

All she knew was that Brooke and Vanessa were not a thing anymore. Brooke had spilt all the details to Violet. Cried her heart out and forced the words out, knowing that her twin would keep quiet. 

Nina would try to make her feel better, would want to fix it. Violet understood that life sucked, and sometimes you just had to go with the flow.

Even if that flow ended in a waterfall with sharp stones at the bottom. 

At least, she understood it better than her heart-eyed and optimistic best friend. 

A loud cough brought Brooke out of her own thoughts, suddenly realising that Chad, Katya, Detox and Fame were all looking at her, seemingly trying to get her attention. 

“You’re all looking at me like I’m the New York Times crossword puzzle. It’s unnerving. What’s going on?” Everyone seemed to simultaneously raise a single brow. 

This felt like an intervention.

“I think that’s what we’re supposed to be asking you about,” Detox shrugged lightly, blowing out smoke in a way that was too cool and calm for all other mere mortals. 

“What do you mean?” Brooke had tried her best to keep her inner turmoil and heartbreak from seeping into work. One, because no one other than Nina knew about her situation, and two…

Because Vanessa didn’t deserve to hear anything about Brooke being a mess. 

She was the one who was at fault, the one who had screwed over Vanessa with her lies. It was her own stupidity that was a fault, and she just had to deal with that. 

Put it on top of the rest of the pile of bullshit that had become her life. 

One more thing, that Brooke had managed to fuck up. 

“Brooke, Honey. You almost made Shuga cry yesterday because you flipped out over the way she had arranged the new serums,” at Katya’s words, Brooke remembered the incident - and sure she had been a bit short, but she hadn’t been that bad. 

“Come on-” before she had a chance to protest, Detox cut her off with a curt tone, leaving no room for discussion.

“I saw you dismiss a customer last week-” The woman had been rude and started asking personal questions, something that Brooke was very much not hired to deal with. 

“I-” Chad held up a hand, her boss effectively stopping any excuse.

“And then you were so dismissive of our new and lovely intern, that I had to spend two hours consoling her,” Brooke felt herself go cold, realizing that she had done what she always did when life was tearing her apart. 

She turned into her Daddy. With harsh words, no-nonsense behaviour and a holier than thou behaviour. 

Fuck.

“Listen, we love your icy bitchiness, but this has got to stop.” Chad placed a soft hand on her shoulder, and Brooke felt horrible. 

She couldn’t even do this right. 

“I’m sorry-” before she even had a chance to retreat into herself, to lower her voice and truly become Mrs Hytes, Katya cut her off, shaking her head, while waving her hand, the smoke from the cigarette creating a pattern in the air. 

“Barbara, please. That’s not it. We’re worried about your bitchy ass. Is it the husband? Working too long hours trying to save the city to take care of his woman? That’s it, isn’t it? You need your man to give you that good-” Brooke had to close her eyes, her brain hearing Katya’s words and then taking a left turn, bombarding her with still images of Vanessa. 

Her smile.

“Katya, please.” Fame’s voice sounded appalled at Katya. 

The way she leaned in closer to get one more kiss, one more hug, one more touch. 

“She’s not wrong though, you have been missing that certain post-sex glow lately,” Detox wasn’t wrong. She was missing that glow because she had divided her time equally between crying, drinking and dancing. 

She couldn’t go to a club. Not anymore. 

And she certainly couldn't have sex with Patrick. 

Shaking her head, she tried to muster a quiet smile, that wouldn’t alarm them, making up an excuse that seemed plausible. 

“Shut up. There is nothing wrong. Everything is just very busy at the moment. Elections are right around the corner and-” the understanding nods from all of them loosened the tight knot of worry in her stomach. 

Only a little. 

The loud and excited clapping from Katya made Brooke’s insides churn. An excited Katya usually indicated vodka, something spiritual and a headache the morning after. 

“You need to unwind. I have the best way for that-” 

“Katy-”

“-so Silk and I have planned Project Ninex take 23. This time we will succeed,” the mentioning of Silky made Brooke’s heart rate speed up. Brooke had only crossed paths with Silky once in the last three weeks, and the way she had looked at Brooke with murder in her eyes, told her enough. 

It was a loud and clear: Stay. The. Fuck. Away. 

The others laughed loudly at Katya’s plans, Brooke forced herself to join. Trying hard to keep herself from spiralling in front of her friends - her friends that had no idea of how big of a shit show her life really was. 

“What makes you so sure that this will be the one?” the words felt too big in her mouth, but somehow Brooke managed to force them out, even adding a tiny huff of a laugh at the end.

“Because we are going karaoke-ing, please come!” Katya’s excitement was contagious, though it did nothing to remove the panic that was coursing through Brooke’s body, making her feel hyperaware. 

Nina did love her karaoke, though. 

“When?” maybe she could go, it would probably be good for her to get out of the apartment, out of her sulk. The only people she had spent time with over the last few weeks were her sister, Steve, Nina and well… Patrick. 

“Tonight,” Katya was like a dog that had picked up the smell of blood, clearly sensing that there was a chance at Brooke joining them. 

“Who’s going to be there?”

“Most of the floor. Silky said that she and Vanjie together with some of the Decay girls would pregame-” Brooke stopped listening, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to go, even if she wanted to.

She still heard Vanessa’s words reverberate inside her head, the way she had almost spit them in her face, eyes angry, tears almost spilling over. 

_ “If you ever talk to me again, I won’t hesitate to call this Del Rio bitch and tell her everything” _

It was what Brooke deserved.

“Patrick and I are going to this event. I can’t cancel,” It was all lies, it seemed to be the only thing Brooke could manage. 

She did have a thing with Patrick tonight, but it was a simple dinner with friends and something she could easily beg out off. Patrick wouldn’t make a fuss, in fact, he hadn’t ever since she had stormed into the penthouse. 

He almost seemed like he was trying to be kind.

“Come on, not even for Nina?” Detox’ curious gaze made Brooke realise that she really needed to get out of here, before she said too much, or made them all even more worried about her. 

“No. I can’t,” stubbing out her cigarette, Brooke gently brushed her hands against her skirt, “but have fun for me. Also. I am pretty sure I have this weekend down in the betting pool, so really. I hope it all works out,”

“Bitch you better split it with me, for all my hard work” Katya's loud laugh was cut off by the bang of the door shutting behind her. 

* * *

_ It felt like they were 17 years old again, and had just sneaked a bottle of red up to one of their rooms. Violet was for some inexplicable reason braiding Brooke’s hair, her deft fingers, even in her inebriated state, able to twist and turn Brooke’s beautiful hair into a perfect replica of Elsa’s. _

_ It reminded Brooke of how much she sometimes yearned for that. For the days when Violet was the first person, she would turn to with her problems. The one shoulder that she always knew that she could cry on. _

_ Time had changed them. Bitterness and petty sibling rivalry had made everything more difficult, less loving. _

_ She loved Violet. _

_ So much. _

_ But Violet had always been the perfectness to Brooke's failures. _

_ The magic mirror that showed her how her life could have been. _

_ “Listen,” a tug at her hair pulled Brooke out of her drunken musings, Violet sounding like she had been trying to get her attention for a while, “I just don’t get why you allow the universe to walk all over you-” Brooke rolled her eyes. _

_ “Shut up, I don’t allow any-” a new tug on the braid stopped her from continuing. Brooke could feel herself getting more annoyed, the hazy veil of alcohol the only thing keeping her from getting truly angry at Violet. _

_ “In this metaphor, the universe is called Patrick and he’s a douchebag,” Violet’s factual tone would’ve been funny if it wasn’t for the fact that she was talking Brooke’s husband. _

_ “He is not that bad,” Brooke wasn’t even lying. _

_ He wasn’t. _

_ Or perhaps more correctly phrased, he wasn’t only a douchebag, he also had his kind moment, moments of love, of care and of support. _

_ Violet pushed Brooke’s shoulder, forcing her to turn around and look her in the eye. Behind the liquor-induced glazy film, there was a seriousness in Violet’s eyes, that made Brooke swallow any joke she had prepared. _

_ “Ookie,” Her soft voice was too real, too kind. Brooke could feel something inside of her getting ready to snap, her tear ducts waking from the slumber, readying themselves, but then Violet had to be Violet: “Look at yourself. You look worse than Winter 2003,” her teasing smile and bright eyes were slap-worthy. _

_ That bitch. _

_ That was the year Brooke’s body finally decided to go through the last bit of puberty, her body a mess of spots, bad hair-choices and gangly limbs. _

_ Truly a wonder that Patrick was together with her even back then. _

_ Violet had of course already looked like a fucking model at that point. _

_ “You take that back right now,” Brooke pointed a finger at her sister, almost poking out her eye in the process, her coordination sorely lacking here three bottles of wine into the evening. _

_ Violet pushed the finger out of her face, choosing instead to grab that hand and hold it in her lap. _

_ “No. I’m serious. You’ve always been my amazing sister, who’s always had this annoying knack of having all of her shit together-” _

_ “Pfft, only because you never had,” Violet had taken the role of being the little sister literal, always choosing to go off, slamming the doors and generally trying to piss off their parents as much as possible. _

_ It had, in many ways, forced Brooke to be the perfect daughter. She couldn’t be a mess when her parents already had to deal with Vi. _

_ “It’s called being punk rock, bitch,” While Violet looked triumphant, playing softly with her fingers, Brooke scoffed. _

_ Trust Violet to put a spin on it. _

_ “No. It’s called being irresponsible,” For a moment both of them looked at each other. The haze of alcohol disappearing as the words hit home. _

_ This was usually how every fight between them started. The perfect daughter versus the rebel. _

_ There was a reason that they didn’t spend a lot of time together. Their love for each other endless, but their tempers short and fiery. _

_ And then. _

_ “Bitch,” before Brooke had time to really react, Violet had taken one of the many throw pillows on the bed, hitting Brooke directly in the face. _

_ “Cow,” there was no thought behind it as Brooke threw it right back, a grin on her face. _

_ “Trophy Wife” _

_ “Soccer Mom” _

_ For a moment both of them gaped at each other, surprised that the other one went there. They knew each other’s weaknesses, knew where to hit to make the other one crumble. It came with the territory of being sisters. _

_ Of being twins. _

_ Yet, the ridiculousness of the situation seemed to hit both of them, as Violet softly giggled, Brooke following her. Those giggles turned into loud laughs that made them fall back on the bed, trying to catch their breaths. _

_ Brooke had missed her sister. _

_ Even if she would never admit it to anyone, least of all Violet. _

_ “What’s up with this braid, then?” that seemed like a safer topic, as she turned her head to look over at Violet who lay on her side, a small and drunk smile on her lips. _

_ “The girls are all into Frozen. Have been for the last three years. Rose keeps on mentioning that “Auntie Broccoli looks like Elsa, doesn’t she mommy?”, so I thought I might as well check,” Violet’s eyes turned soft, as she spoke of her daughters. _

_ Brooke tried hard to ignore the twinge in her stomach. The pain that was never really forgotten. _

_ “What’s the verdict?” _

_ “Meh,” Trust Violet to never give her a compliment, “I tried to get the girls to watch Moana, you know, to appreciate the islands.” Violet’s words didn’t make sense, causing Brooke to wrinkle her brows in confusion. _

_ “Doesn’t Moana take place in Polynesia?” what did that have to do with anything? _

_ “Same day different ‘nesia, Ookie,” Violet waved her hand at Brooke, clearly not seeing the problem. It never ceased to amaze Brooke how many areas of life Violet just didn’t understand. _

_ Geography and, ironically enough, politics, being the key areas. _

_ “You better hope I’m too drunk to remember this so that your Indonesian husband never finds out.” not that Sutan would actually care, his love and joy over Violet too deep to ever get angry at her ignorance. _

_ He would, however, find it hilarious. _

_ “How are the girls, though? It’s been ages since I’ve last seen them,” Brooke forced the words out. She loved her nieces, each of them having carved out their own little space inside her heart. _

_ Yet, they always reminded her of the big and empty space in her life that was supposed to have been filled. _

_ “Little monsters. Daisy is going through a phase of only wanting her dad, while Poppy is really into Peppa the Pig, which is… an experience. Rose has decided that she is a big girl now, even though she is only 4 years old. I swear, most of the time I feel like they love Sutan more than me,” Violet couldn’t keep the love out of her voice, even if she was complaining. _

_ In her darkest and ugliest moments, Brooke hated Violet. Hated that she had managed to get it all when it was never in her plans. _

_ Hated that she had a loving husband, a great career and three beautiful and perfect children, while Brooke… _

_ Well. _

_ A soft touch to her hand made Brooke look over at Violet, the worry clear in her eyes. There was something in that look, an understanding. _

_ A warmth and a love that Brooke hadn’t been close to for a while. _

_ It seemed to break something inside of her, the words spilling out before she had a chance to reign them in, pack them away so that they never saw the light of day. _

_ “She would’ve been 3-years-old, now,” her free hand unconsciously settled over her stomach, the scar there the only tangible proof of an existence that never was to be. _

_ She could feel the tears pressing, her body tightening as her carefully hidden sorrow seemed to unpack itself, taking over every inch of her body. _

_ “I know,” Violet seemed to understand that the dam had broken, as she gathered Brooke in her arms, holding her. _

_ Never trying to make it better. Just giving her a safe place to let go. _

_ Brooke’s cries were loud and heartbreaking as they filled the bedroom, the pain and sorrow too much to bear. _

* * *

_ “Don’t stop believin’!” _ The loud and off-key singing from Aquaria and Plastique filled the bar, everyone wincing in that overbearing way, that most people did when they were at a karaoke bar. 

Project Ninex #23 was underway and had been for the last couple of hours. It seemed to be going better than usual, seeing as Nina and Monét were actually talking to each other as opposed to #17 where they had ignored each other the night, while they were at the bowling alley. 

It had lifted the spirits of everyone. Karen from Finance kept sending sly smiles to Silky and Katya. 

Vanjie was digging the vibe. Being out with all the girls was refreshing. Their rowdiness and the overall gossipy feel of everyone playing matchmaker on behalf of their miss congenialities was amazing. 

If Vanjie noticed the absence of a certain blondie with the reddest lipstick and prettiest smile, she didn’t waste any time on mentioning it. 

“Vanjie!!! Hoe, get you fine ass over here and help a girl figure out with song we be singing,” Silkys loud voice boomed across the bar, dragging Vanjie out of her thoughts. 

With a fruity and pinker than pink drank in her hand she sauntered over to her friend, noticing at the corner of her eye that Nina was looking her up and down. 

Did she know?

“Bitch I ain’t singing, ‘less it be Rihanna, y’all know my brand!” Vanjie forced herself to let Nina’s look going, knowing that Silky would worry too much if she seemed more down than usual.

She needed her friends to lose that worried expression, it wasn’t cute anymore. 

“I know that. So please transport yo ass up here, so we can select a song from Ms Fenty and show these people how it be done!” Silky was shaking her body, beckoning Vanjie closer. 

Shaking her head, she walked up to the stage, knowing that her loud laugh echoed all over. 

Silky had been right, a hoe needed this.

“Listen up. I be thinkin’-“ Silky trying to keep her voice down, leaning down, whispering into Vanjie’s ear. Her hand settled on her shoulder, clearly wanted Vanjie closer, so whatever secret she was telling would only be between them. 

“Oh Lord, that ain’t ever good!” Silky only rolled her eyes at Vanjie, too caught up in her plan, to get annoyed at her friend. 

“-that we needs to set the mood. So here it be, my big and sure plan to get Miss Nina and Monét to Kai Kai so hard they both be calling in sick on Monday,” Too caught up in her own brilliance, Silky’s voice started getting louder, catching the attention of Detox and Katya at a table nearby. 

The wheezing laughter from Katya was the only thing that kept Vanjie from telling Silky to lower her voice. 

“Lemme hear, Mary,”

“Three words. Umbrella, serenading, cocktails,” Holding up three fingers, Silky looked like she had just won a free weekend at work. Her eyes shining with mirth. 

Vanjie merely crossed her arms, looking unimpressed at her. 

“Bitch that ain’t a plan, that just this evening,” Silky scoffed at her words, some of her excitement dissipating. 

Mirroring Vanjie’s pose she crossed her arms and looked pointedly at Vanjie, a challenge in her eyes. 

“Alright Miss Mateo, if you that clever then what is your plan?” Vanjie could tell that they had caught the attention of the people around them. Silky’s loud voice coupled with Vanjie’s stance clearly signalling a fight, a sing-along or a full-on drinking competition. 

To be fair, that was usually how any night out with those two went. 

“Why I gotta be the one to fix this? I ain’t be winning no money this weekend either way,” Truly, Vanjie wanted Nina and Monét to get together, but if they could wait two weeks, that would be great. 

“No. Mothershitting Hytes is,” Silky’s face contorted the moment the words left her lips as if she knew that she had fucked up. 

Vanjie’s mind went on a loop. 

_ Hytes. _

_ Hytes. _

_ Hytes. _

Even almost a month later her whole body reacted to that name. Her skin felt prickly, her mouth dry. Heart beating faster, hands clammy. 

“Oh shit, Vanjie boo. I’m sorry, I-“

Vanjie held up a hand, stopping Silky’s apology.

“We doin’ umbrella, and we doing it now bitch. So you best still know your lil two-step, cause we bout to snatch all these bitches’ wigs,”

_ Ain’t no way she was letting that hoe ruin any more of her evenings. _

* * *

The silence in the car was weird and oppressing, at least it felt like that to Steve, who kept on glancing back at Brooke and Patrick in the back of the car, trying to understand what was going on. 

Brooke was softly smiling, looking every bit the lovely and perfect wife to Patrick. 

It made no sense to Steve, who still had a clear memory of the heartbroken Brooke, who had forced him to drive her over to the penthouse after Vanessa had left. 

This. 

This demure, soft and seemingly happy Brooke did not cooperate with the picture. 

Patrick seemed just as befuddled as he kept on sneaking glances at Brooke, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Darling, you okay?” Steve was astonished to note that Brooke didn’t flinch at the endearment from Patrick, like she normally would, her smile merely widened.

“Why? Do I seem like something is wrong?” her tone of voice took Steve back to years ago. 

_ Shit, she sounded like pre-Lily Brooke. _

“No, no. You’re just very quiet, that’s all,” Patrick seemed taken aback by her tone, normally this would have been the beginning of another round of _ “how passive is aggressive” _game that they always played, but not tonight. 

“Oh sorry,” _ Sorry? _Steve was happy that they were idling in the middle of New York Rush hours, otherwise, he might have crashed. “My mind is a bit scattered. Remember how I told you about this flirty dance Nina and Monét have been doing for years?” Brooke’s smile was blinding, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that Steve had 

_ What the hell? _

Steve noted in astonishment that Patrick had yet to look at his phone, his attention instead focused completely on Brooke.

The way they were both turned towards each other was a stark contrast to the usual way they always spent the car ride ignoring each other before they had to put on their married masks. 

They weren’t pretending now.

“Yes, Katya still scheming?” 

“Sure is. They are undertaking Project Ninex #23 tonight. Hopefully, this one will go better than the time we all went bowling last year,” Steve had no recollection of this, having never heard about that. But from the way Patrick and Brooke were trying to hold back laughter, they had clearly both talked about it before. 

Weird. 

Patrick was fidgeting slightly, looking uncomfortable in the comfort of their talk. 

Of sharing that moment. 

Of laughing together. 

Steve couldn’t help but feel the same, something not sitting right with Brooke seeming so carefree and loose when she usually cherished her quiet cartrips before they had to go and perform another show of _ “The Hytes” _. 

Patrick’s tension didn’t seem to faze Brooke, as she smiled softly at him. 

_What was going on? _

* * *

_ Brooke woke up with a headache that reminded her of her age most cruelly and painfully. It felt like someone had used her head for football practice. Her mouth was dry, eyes clearly swollen and overall she felt exactly like a 33-year-old should feel post drinking too much red wine after three days of eating next to nothing. _

_ The loud groan next to her, thankfully meant that Violet was feeling the pain too. _

_ “Shit,” not that Brooke was doing any better herself. She felt like she was dying. The act of blinking already too much, too painful. _

_ “Yup,” Violet’s voice was all crackling as if she had a sore throat. A sure sign of a Chatcki hangover. _

_ “Who’s making coffee?” Brooke turned her head with a lot of difficulty, catching Violet’s eyes. The unimpressed look was answer enough. _

_ “You’re the oldest, it’s your job to take care of me,” Sutan had spoiled her sister. Not that Brooke was surprised. _

_ “I thought those 6 minutes didn’t count,” Brooke slowly got up from the bed, groaning at the way her headache travelled from the temples to behind her eyes. _

_ She really needed her glasses. _

_ “They do when I’m in pain,” Violet’s whining took Brooke back to their teenage years, the way they would lie on the floor and cry over the way their limbs would hurt after a particularly tough training session. _

_ “You’re pathetic,” grabbing her glasses from the side table and putting them on, the world came back into focus. It made her dare to stand up. _

_ Though the way her stomach acid made itself known in the back of her throat, that had been a bad idea. _

_ She soldiered on though, knowing that there was no way that Violet would ever make the coffee. _

_ “Not in comparison to you,” Violet’s dry voice followed her out of the bedroom, as Brooke slowly moved through the living room where she was met by too many bottles of red wine, empty packs of cigarettes and popcorn. _

_ God, they had truly acted like this was back in the days. _

_ Before Brooke had a chance to reach the kitchen, her doorbell rang. _

_ Walking over to the door, hoping that it was no one important since she knew she looked like hell warmed over. _

_ Hungover not a good look on her. _

_ Opening her front door, she couldn’t help but laugh, looking at her brother-in-law standing with his arms full of paper bags and take away coffee. _

_ “Amrull. I swear if that bag contains croissants from Maison Kayser I will cry,” at his small nod, Brooke groaned loudly as she let him in, “just dump my sister and marry me.” _

_ She closed the door after him, taking the takeout coffee from his hand while quickly kissing his cheek. _

_ Sutan Amrull. Her sister’s 51-year-old husband. His greying hair, high cheekbones and warms eyes a vision that would make Jeff Goldblum quiver in sheer fear at the power that had. _

_ Sutan’s laugh seemed to light up the whole apartment, as he walked into the kitchen, somehow familiar with a place he had only been to two times before. _

_ “It would be a short marriage. I think she would kill me before we even got to the ceremony, Hayhoe.” Brooke opened her mouth to correct him, knowing that Violet would have killed him way sooner, but her sister was faster than her. _

_ “I would kill you before you even took a step out of the townhouse,” Violet had somehow managed to find a pair of sunglasses in Brooke’s bedroom, as always quick to find and steal her sister’s clothing. _

_ Some things truly never changed. _

_ “You look great, lovely eyes.” Brooke rolled her eyes so far back, that her headache turned the pain up a notch. _

_ Sutan was smoother than smooth, and on anyone else, it would sound disgusting. He always managed to make it seem natural. _

_ God, she sometimes hated Violet’s luck in life. _

_ Closing her eyes, she leaned her head down on the table, waiting for their love fest to end. _

_ “We both know I look about the same as after I pushed your coconut-headed third child out of my birth canal.” Violet paused for a moment, considering, “But thanks.” Brooke heard Sutan walking over to Violet, and the following soft kiss. _

_ She remembered a time when her own husband treated her like that. _

_ That felt like a lifetime ago. _

_ “Brooke, you look-“ she didn’t even let him finish, not in the mood to be lied to by another charming man. _

_ “Like my husband is an asshole, my life is in ruins, and that I’ve managed to fuck up my love life spectacularly. Yes, I know,” the words were mumbled into the table, the listing of her problems too much to bear to say at Sutan’s face. _

_ “I was going to say interesting, but now that you mention it...” He trailed off, forcing Brooke to sit up and look at him. The insult delivered with the smuggest of smirks, making Brooke want to punch him and hug him at the same time. _

_ She instead opted for the more mature option, and simply flipped him off, causing him to laugh out loud. _

_ "So what did you gorgeous girls do yesterday?" Only Sutan could get away with calling Brooke and Violet girls. _

_ Brooke took a sip of her coffee, feeling herself getting taken to a different plane of existence as the caffeine hit her system. _

_ "Talked." Violet’s voice had gone softer, the way it always did around Sutan. Her sister was just as much a cold bitch as Brooke, but whenever she was in the proximity to her husband she thawed. _

_ Much the same way that Brooke had always done around Patrick. _

_ Looking at them now, the way that Sutan had an arm around Violet’s shoulders, her sister snuggling up to him with a small smile on her lips as she sipped her coffee, made Brooke green with envy. _

_ "About me?" the grace with which Sutan managed to avoid the topic of Patrick was admirable. _

_ Sutan having deemed Patrick an asshole from the first time he met them, and then just proceeding to ignore him. _

_ It has once bugged Brooke to no end. _

_ Now? _

_ She adored him for it. _

_ "Maybe." _

_ "Actually-" Brooke leaned forward. "Did you know that your wife thinks Polynesia and Indonesia is the same thing?" _

* * *

Nina was sitting by herself, nursing her drink. 

She loved karaoke. The fun energy coupled with the sheer idiocy of trying to sing a song that was never intended to be replicated. 

It was amazing.

Yet, having spent most of the night talking to Monét, her nerves felt frazzled. 

Monét was funny, cunning and smooth. It made Nina trip over her words, blush more than she ever thought was possible, and it also meant that she was at her fourth drink, when normally she would have stuck to two. 

“So, are you actually going to sing, Miss West, or are you just going to sit here all night long?” Monét sat down next to her, softly bumping her shoulder, leaving Nina with a spark that spread all over her body. 

“I don’t really sing,” Nina shrugged, feeling the bitter aftertaste of the lie in her mouth. She sang all the time. She just didn’t want to do it in front of people. 

Least of all Monét.

“Liar,” Monét single raised eyebrow was more unimpressed with her than the entire state of New York.

“I don’t,” the rebuke felt flat as Nina knew her voice had turned smaller, the idea of lying to Monét too wrong, for her to do it with any real amount of conviction behind it. 

“Honey, I’ve walked past your office when you think you’re alone. You can sing,” The twinkle in Monét’s eyes did nothing to calm down the sudden rise of anxiety that coursed through Nina’s blood. 

“What, no… Please tell me you didn-” Nina didn’t even get to finish her sentence before Monét stopped her with a raised hand and a small smirk. 

“I did… And I liked it.” Monét leaned closer, lightly letting her fingertips slowly glide over Nina’s hand on the table. The praise coupled with the electricity that flowed across Nina’s hand at her touch, caused a surge of bravery to hit Nina. 

Knocking back her drink, not caring how it might look from the outside, Nina simply winked at Monét and almost ran up to the stage.

She didn’t dare to look back, too afraid that it would put a stop to what she was doing. Looking over the long list of song choices, she found it. 

_ The Song. _

This would be it. Her one chance to maybe finally do something about this thing with Monét. 

And if that failed? 

Well, at least she would have fun while failing spectacularly. 

Grabbing the microphones, she turned to look at Monét, who was still sitting at the table, her face set in a delighted and surprised expression. 

She looked breathtaking. 

“Get up here. We’re singing!” Nina didn’t really understand where all this initiative was coming from, knowing that her cheeks were probably set in a permanent Mickey Mouse red. 

Monét laughed loudly but nonetheless complied. Sauntering up the floor, her hips swaying from side to side before she reached Nina, Monét grabbed the microphone that she was holding out to her. 

Nina could feel her whole body shake, as the nervousness started to set in. Her mind rethinking every choice that has brought her here. 

She wanted to stop it all before she really made a fool of herself. 

She didn’t, though. 

The glint in Monét’s eyes making her believe that maybe this would be the night. 

Maybe. 

Just maybe this would the night that she’ll finally try. 

The opening piano chords filled the air, instantly causing loud catcalls and screams of delight, Monét looking at her with pure surprise.

“Biiiitch,” the breathiness of that one word almost made Nina give up this whole plan and just kiss her then and there. 

But then it was time to sing. 

** _ Living in my own world  
_ ** ** _ Didn't understand  
_ ** _ That anything can happen  
_ _ When you take a chance _

Nina knew that her tone was so off-key that it wasn’t funny, knew that she probably looked more than a little tipsy, her dress a bit too tight and her makeup a bit too overdone. 

None of that mattered as Monét smiled the softest smile, continuing the song. 

** _ I never believed in what I couldn't see  
_ ** _ I never opened my heart  
_ _ To all the possibilities _

Nina had never witnessed anything hotter than a woman, _ this woman _, knowing the lyrics to a High School Musical. Monét never once looked at the screen, instead choosing to sway softly as she looked directly into Nina’s eyes. 

**_I know that something has changed  
_******_Never felt this way and right here tonight  
__This could be the start of something new  
  
__What was her life?_

She was standing her having her full-on gay musical moment in a bar. With Monét. 

Who seemed not only interested but to be having the time of her life. Twirling and singing. Her smile was so radiant that Nina felt like she was almost being blinded. 

They kept on singing, none of them looking at the screen. Nina could vaguely sense that there were loud cheers from the audience as she moved closer to Monét.

Fuck. 

Was it time? Would they finally stop this stupid dance they had been doing for a year?

Always flirting, always suggesting something, but never following through? 

** _ And now looking in your eyes I feel in my heart  
_ ** ** _ That it's the start of something new  
_ ** _ It feels so right to be here with you  
_ _ And now looking in your eyes I feel in my heart _

They were so close that Nina could feel the puffs of air from Monét’s singing against her face. 

All of her senses were working overtime. Her body felt like it was on high-alert. The song was ending soon if she wanted anything to happen, now would be the time. 

** _ The start of something new   
_ ** ** _ The start of something new _ **

And then, before the last tone had even fully left Nina’s lips, Monét leaned over and kissed her. 

_ Just like that. _

For a single moment, everything stopped. The world tilted before turning absolutely right. 

The kiss was soft, not imposing, not forceful, just right. Monét’s lips soft and sure against her own. 

Nina’s heart feels like it grows ten times, happiness seizing into every single cell of her body. 

_ Monét. Kissed. Her. _

“WHO HAD THIS WEEKEND?!” The cry ripped Nina out of fantasy turned - _ holy shit _ \- real life, making her turn around to look out at the crowd of her colleagues who all seemed to be frantically looking at each other. Their smiles big and warming. 

“Wait a minute, you guys bet on this?” Nina couldn’t keep the incredulity out of her voice, though she knew that she shouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Honey, you didn’t know? Even Ru is in on it,” Monét soft voice made her turn back around, to be engulfed by the warm embrace of those clear brown eyes. The big smile, telling Nina that Monét was as delighted by the development of the evening as she was. 

_ Wait, Ru? _

“What?” Nina was confused, dazed over the moon and feeling happier than a kid at Disneyworld. 

“Hytes has got this weekend,” Katya’s disappointed yell, immediately made Nina turn back around. 

_ Brooke knew? _

“I’m sorry, WHAT?” Monét’s cackles filled the air. 

* * *

Vanjie was sulking. 

Seeing Nina and Monét finally kissing had been amazing. Trust, Miss West, to finally win over Nina with the power of High School Musical. 

It had been sweet. 

Amazing. 

Yet, it had reminded Vanjie of those sweet kisses that she would never get again. That she woke up every morning craving with her own body, only to be reminded of the reason why they were gone. 

She hated Brooke. 

Despised her. 

Missed her. 

_ Loved her. _

It was all too much, too hard and too painful. 

So she had hidden from Silky and found a dark corner of the bar, where no one could annoy her just so she could have her own moment of sulking over her lying ex.

_ If you could even call her that. _

Vanjie knew that she was drunk, knew that she was prone to making a stupid-ass decision, and very much aware that she didn’t give a fuck. 

“I really liked your version of Umbrella,” 

The unknown voice made Vanjie’s head snap up, the fast movement coupled with all the alcohol in her blood making her eyes blur for a moment. 

In front of her was one of the sexiest women that she had ever laid her eyes on. Neck tattoo, blonde hair, tight dress and a face beat for the Gods. 

She looked like trouble.

She looked like fun. 

She looked just like what Vanjie needed. 

“Yeah? Then you should hear me sing _ Rude Boy _, Mary,” Vanjie knew that she would regret this in the morning. 

But that was a problem for future her, present-Vanjie needed to rebound.

Now.

* * *

The arm around her waist tightened as she shifted on the bed. Brooke felt comfortable, warm and safe, as she leaned back, the smell of cedar, musk and Patrick making her feel calm ad home.

Wait. Patrick? 

“Scarlet, baby… Too early,” his husky voice made Brooke’s eyes open in sheer panic as she jumped out of bed, realising belatedly that she was completely naked. 

“What. The. Fuck?” Brooke could feel the panic seize her body in its tight grip. Her voice was remarkably steady despite it all. 

At the sound of her voice, Patrick’s eyes shot open, looking at her in a mix of shock, surprise and sheer horror.

“Brooke Lynn?” 

“What the_ hell _happened last night?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am prepared for lawsuits and yelling
> 
> Bring it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quiet of the office was ruined as Brooke pushed open the door, slamming it behind her before she walked over and somehow managed to gracefully dump herself down into the chair in front of Nina. 
> 
> “And hello to you-” 
> 
> “I had sex with Patrick.” 
> 
> “-sunshine… I’m sorry, you did what?” Nina knew that her face was going through twenty different expressions per second, trying to make sense of the words, while Brooke determinedly looked away from her. “Have I travelled back to late 2016 or are you trying your hand at comedy? Because that is the only two ways that what you've just said would make any sense." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my loves, we're back from almost two months of hiatus.
> 
> a big shout out to Frey for being a better beta than I truly deserve and as always all the love to Dane for listening and reading along. <3

The silence was like a thick blanket, almost suffocating as it clung to every inch of the car, including Steve and Patrick. It made the drive up to Albany far less than pleasant. 

It wasn’t the first time that Steve hated that he needed to deal with both of the Hytes as his employers first, and friends second.

His grip on the steering wheel was so tight that his hands were hurting, the leather crackling at his hold, but he needed something to keep him grounded, something to keep him from shouting, from asking invasive questions that he knew Patrick would shoot down the minute they left his lips. 

Patrick himself, however, didn’t look too good. His face seemed to be contorted in a confused grimace as he kept staring at his phone with unseeing eyes. 

None of the things Steve had seen that morning made any sense. 

He didn’t know why Patrick had, apparently, stayed over at Brooke’s. 

Had no way to be certain.

_But he wasn’t an idiot. _

He saw that Brooke was only wearing her fluffy bathrobe when he had picked Patrick up. He saw the way she continued to avoid his gaze as he kept on sending her questioning looks.

So maybe he did know. 

“Steve?” Patrick’s voice made Steve glance away from the road for a second, catching his eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Sir?” The raised eyebrow told Steve that it had been ages since he had last addressed Patrick that way, the title slipping out before he could stop himself. 

There was just something about dealing with the shit show that was The Hytes that forced him into using formalities. 

“You clearly have something you want to say.” Patrick made a motion with his hand, indicating that Steve might as well get started with berating - the carelessness of the movement almost enough for Steve to break his frail hold on his anger. 

_Almost. _

“It’s not my place.” Steve wanted to pat himself on the shoulder for managing to keep his voice calm, even adding a shrug for effect, though his knuckles were white from his tight grip on the steering wheel. 

“What if I _want_ to know?” 

“You won’t use it as a reason to fire me?” Steve knew that he was clenching his jaw, could feel the muscles hurting, relishing in the pain as it kept him grounded. 

It helped him keep his barely contained anger in check, reminding himself that he was at work right now and needed to act accordingly. 

“Steve, please. You yelled at me for an hour the first time I refused to sign the divorce papers and you’re still here.” Steve remembered that day in almost painstakingly detail. 

Remembered how Brooke had thrown vases against the walls. 

How she’d yelled and cried, inconsolable in her anger, until Steve had driven her over to Nina, ensuring that someone would take care of her, while he went back to deal with Patrick. 

“That was me showing restraint, though.” If Steve was honest, he was still amazed that he hadn’t punched Patrick even once that day. 

He had honestly thought that he’d lost that itch, the years making him an expert at leaving his own feelings behind the moment he donned his work clothes. But here, trapped in a car on the way to Albany, Steve felt it come back with a vengeance. Patrick’s blasé attitude and smug smile almost too much to bear. 

Probably, because he knew that Brooke was having a complete breakdown somewhere in New York. 

He could already see the cracks appearing as he’d picked up Patrick at the apartment, the way her hands had been shaking just a bit, as she silently watched them leave. 

The silences in the car stretched on much like the road, Steve finding the anger rise, as the image of Brooke from that same morning was stuck in his mind. 

His blood pumping until it didn’t matter how hard he was holding onto the steering wheel. 

_Something had to give. _

“What the fuck were you thinking?” The words managed to surprise even Steve himself, his harsh tone escaping the numerous filters he usually kept in place to avoid a situation like this. “Do you have any idea how fucked up all of this is? How much you’ve hurt her? Again and again and again. I swear, Pat, every time Brooke starts to look even remotely close to being okay again, seems to have her head above the water, you pull another stunt.” 

“Listen-” Steve didn’t have time for this, knew where Patrick was going, what excuse he would use.

_But no more. _

“Don’t you dare use her as an excuse for your behaviour. Lily was no one’s fault. No one’s.” Catching Patrick’s eyes in the rearview mirror, he noticed the way that even the mentioning of Lily’s name seemed to cause Patrick physical pain, his jaw clenched. “But all of this? That's on you, you pretentious fucking douchebag.” Steve could feel a part of his mind rebelling against his anger. 

Wanting him to calm down, and perhaps choose his words a bit more carefully. 

_It was only a tiny part, though. _

“You could have prevented all of this three years ago. You could have signed the papers and let her leave without any blackmail or fuss.” Patricks’ eyes narrowed a bit, though he kept his mouth shut, clearly letting Steve get the words off his chest, even if he disagreed with them. “You could’ve just let her have her girlfriends and live her goddamn life.” He knew that his voice had risen, knew that he was getting too personal. 

“Steve, there’s more to it than that.” Patrick’s eyes were sharp, despite his calm and collected tone. 

“Brooke is a mess.” The words hung in the car for a moment, Steve avoiding Patrick’s eyes as he focused on the road. “She’s always been a mess. You know that more than anyone else. How she’s too kind, too broken, and way too fucking loyal to ever create any drama. You know how she grew up.” Steve still remembered all the discussions he’d had with Brooke about Patrick. 

How she always protected him, kept on arguing that the arrangement was there for a reason. 

_Fuck, Patrick didn’t deserve Brooke. _

“And then you go and do this?” Glancing at the speedometer, Steve realised that he was pushing 70 mph, his fury clearly getting the better of him. 

He gulped and slowly let his foot ease off the gas pedal, hoping that Patrick was too preoccupied with his words to notice.

“We just had sex, and so what?” Patrick sounded so blasé, the sound of his fingers sending off a text on his phone a clear indication that he was over this conversation. 

Steve wasn’t. 

“_So what?_ Jesus, Patrick - come the fuck on!” Steve was thankful that he had to focus on the road, knowing that he’d have trouble getting through this conversation if he’d have to look Patrick in the eye. “You’ve manipulated her into staying married to you, despite the fact that you are living with your mistress, holding her father’s career hostage, while also micromanaging her love life, and all you’ve got to say is ‘So what’ - really?’” 

Steve couldn’t even find it in himself to yell anymore. The situation so ridiculous, so out there that his anger disappeared, leaving behind a feeling of complete and utter powerlessness. 

Yet, when Steve finally dared to glance back, he was met by the rare sight of a startled Patrick, his eyes wide and mouth slightly opened. 

“I didn’t…” he trailed off, the words - for once - failing him. 

Steve couldn't help but feel a little proud, knowing that it wasn’t often that Patrick Hytes was left speechless. 

“_You didn’t think_… Of course, you didn’t. You owe her an apology. You owe her more than that. Way more.” Steve hoped that his words got through to him, hoped that this would be one of those times where pre-Lily Patrick showed his face. “But that’s certainly a place to start… _Sir_.”

* * *

_Standing in the elevator, Patrick felt like he had been transported more than four years back. The way that Brooke was leaning heavily against his arm - giggling softly to herself, delirious on champagne and the good mood from their evening - felt like a specific brand of nostalgia that he wasn’t used to experiencing. _

_In fact, that last couple of hours had felt like putting on an old and comfortable suit, rather than forcing himself to act. _

_Most of that was thanks to Brooke Lynn. _

_She had been radiant the whole evening, laughing beautifully while managing to be the centre of attention in her usual graceful way._

_Everything about her had reminded him of the woman he had once fallen in love with. _

_The woman he had married. _

_Even now, drunk and with her heels dangling from her left hand after she had proclaimed loudly that she was ‘too drunk to walk on stilts’, Patrick could feel something familiar stirring in his chest, so much like a home he’d forgotten he had. _

_It felt dangerous in the most delicious way._

_“You are very drunk.” The feeling of her weight against his arm made the rest of the world disappear in a way it hadn’t managed to do for the last three years. _

_Or maybe that was just the whiskey talking. _

_“Well… So are you,” Brooke said, with a drunken giggle, her hand snaking its way around his waist. The move feeling so natural, that Patrick almost forgot how unusual it was. It seemed like it had been years since the last time Brooke had been the one to instigate any type of touch when they were all alone. _

_Without any type of audience. _

_“So if I let go of you right now, you won’t fall?” He pushed her face up with a single finger under her chin, wanting to look her in the eye as she tried to fairytale herself sober. _

_But the set of her chin and the way her eyes travelled from the elevator floor and back up to Patrick told him everything. _

_She would fall flat on her face, and she knew it._

_A stray thought highlighted how soft her lips looked, though he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind._

_“That’s what I thought.” The swoosh of the elevator doors opening made both of them look out into the empty and dark hallway. “Come on, darling, let’s get you home.” They probably looked ridiculous, stumbling and clinging to each other. _

_The silk of Brooke’s subtle black dress felt cool to the touch, Patrick remembering countless of times where that particular dress had ended up on the floor. _

_As they reached the door, Brooke took three tries before she managed to unlock it, while Patrick tried hard to keep the laughter from escaping his lips - the determined set of Brooke’s brow too adorable. _

_He steadied her with a calming hand as she walked through the door, only to turn around and stare back at him. _

_For a moment everything stopped, as Brooke looked deep into his eyes, an indecipherable emotion crossing her face, before a coquettish smile slowly spread its way across her lips, making Patrick swallow the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. _

_What. The. Hell?_

_Brooke walked backwards further into the apartment, carelessly letting go of the heels in her hand, the click-clack of them hitting the floor sounding thunderous in the otherwise silent apartment. _

_The glint in her eyes was hauntingly familiar as she reached behind her back, the hissing sound of a zipper making Patrick raise a single brow at her. _

_The sound reverberated inside his head, echoing back to the countless times that Brooke had looked at him with that specific gaze. _

_A look that usually resulted in an evening that ended differently than this one would. _

_Patrick followed her, lightly closed the door behind them, running on autopilot as he felt himself get pulled into the apartment by the look in her eyes. _

_That tantalizing glint made her deep blue eyes feel like an ocean that he would have no problem drowning in. _

_Everything about her was intoxicating in a way that couldn’t be blamed on the copious amounts of alcohol currently coursing through his blood._

_It wasn’t that Patrick didn’t know that his wife was beautiful. _

_He did. _

_Had always known. _

_From her milky white skin to her blonde locks and ocean-deep blue eyes, he knew that she was a vision. The type of woman that could make a pair of yoga pants and a dirty t-shirt look like it belonged on the runways of Paris fashion week. _

_It was more that he had been ignoring it for years. _

_But as Brooke slowly let the dress slip down her body, leaving her clad in black and lacy lingerie, Patrick felt his mouth dry up. _

_He couldn’t ignore this. _

_Brooke looked him up and down for a moment, and then simply turned around, walking towards her bedroom, leaving Patrick in the middle of the living room, almost breathless. _

_Despite his drunkenness, he knew that he needed to leave. Knew that staying would be bad for both of them. _

_Yet, he found himself walking into the kitchen, taking out a glass and filling it with water, grabbing two aspirins before he walked towards the bedroom. _

_As he reached the bedroom he was met by a vision that instantly made his mouth dry up. _

_Brooke was sitting on the bed, staring at her stockings-clad legs like they were a riddle, rather than two pieces of nylon. She looked up at the sound of his footsteps, that small smile once again making its way to her lips. _

_Walking past her, he placed down the glass and pills on the bedside table, his eyes trying hard not to stare too much at the goosebumps beginning to appear on Brooke’s skin and the way her chest was softly heaving with every breath she took. _

_Trying being the keyword._

_“Help me get these off.” Patricks’s eyes instantly found their way back up to her eyes, ignoring that knowing twinkle he found there, “Don’t give me that look, you know I can’t get these damned buckles open when I’ve been drinking.” Which was true, her hands losing all coordination the moment she’d had the first two glasses of wine._

_But Patrick knew where this was going. _

_“I can’t-”_

_“Why?” Brooke’s raised eyebrow made Helen of Troy look like an amateur, but he still tried to keep a hold on the small and dwindling sense of composure he had in the face of a Brooke Lynn Hytes that was in the mood._

_He tried. _

_But she wasn’t making it easy with the way she stretched out her leg, until it touched his thigh, her toes softly massaging the muscle there, making him swallow the groan before it left his lips. _

_She was not playing fair. _

_“Am I that irresistibly hot?” Brooke looked every bit the predator, her low voice bypassing every composed thought and reason he had for leaving. _

_She knew he never backed down from a challenge. _

_“No.” He pushed her foot down as he walked closer before he sank down onto his knees. He let his hands glide over her legs, lingering on the soft feel of the nylons coupled with Brooke. _

_Reaching the buckles, he tried - and failed - to ignore the temptation of touching her smooth and soft skin. As he undid the buckles, he felt small bursts of electricity run across his fingers every time they grazed Brooke’s skin. _

_Patrick quickly moved on to the other leg, feeling his resolve start to falter with every second spent in Brooke’s company. All of this felt too much like home. _

_Like an everyday occurrence._

_As the last buckle came undone, he started to rise from the floor, his body overcome with a giddy sense of accomplishment at having managed to ignore every instinct inside of himself to just kiss Brooke. _

_But the sudden yank on his tie made that feeling die on his lips, as Patrick’s hand grasped Brooke’s thigh to keep himself steady, while he found himself once again faced with her determined gaze._

_He couldn’t help but gulp._

_He knew that look. _

_Sometimes in weaker moments, he recalled it fondly._

_But seeing it now. With everything that was going on? _

_It made no sense. _

_“Brooke, I-” She yanked harder on the tie, forcing him closer until they were completely flush together. _

_Brooke’s thighs were on either side of him, caging him in, as he looked up into her face, trying hard to ignore the heat of her skin. _

_For a moment, they just stared at each other. Her blue eyes clear in a way that reminded Patrick of their wedding day. _

_And then she leaned down and kissed him. _

_Softly. _

_Every alarm bell inside of his head rang, while his body sank into the complete and utterly blissful feeling of his wife. _

_Her lips. Her taste. _

_Everything was…_

_Home._

_He leaned back with great difficulty, Brooke hold on the tie and his own body working against him the whole way, as they both tried hard to bring him back to her lips._

_“Brooke?” Her name came out breathier than he wanted it to, as she let go of his tie, only to have her hands softly make their way under his suit jacket, caressing his sides and making him remember the countless of times where such a move would have been the beginning of a perfect night. _

_“You’ve said that twice already, Pat.” He had to bite his lips from groaning out loud at the teasing tone. _

_He wanted to leave, remembered vaguely through the whisky induced fog that there was a good reason for him to leave. _

_To stop this before it escalated to the point of no return. _

_But. _

_Fuck. _

_He forced himself to push her back, regrettably rising from the floor, his knees cracking while his body yelled out in sheer contempt at losing any contact with Brooke’s skin. _

_“Brooke. We should stop.” Patrick was proud that he managed to force the words out, though the laughter in Brooke’s eyes, told him that he sounded less resolved and instead whinier. _

_Before he had any chance to even take a further step back, Brooke had risen from the bed, standing in front of him, a hair’s width of space between them. _

_“What if I don’t want to stop?” Her voice was sultry and velvety, instantly forcing him to close his eyes for just a second, as he felt her fingers walk their way up to his chest, making him suck in a breath at the sensation. _

_“What if I very much want you to continue?” She leaned up on her tiptoes and whispered the words into his ear, the puffs of air, managing to break down the last bit of will power he had left. _

_Before he had time to think his actions through, Brooke was in his arms, their lips locked in a filthy kiss. Teeth biting and tongues gliding, both of them trying to get the upper hand in a dance they both knew so well. _

_“Babe…” His voice was close to whining, though he couldn’t even feel embarrassed about it._

_He wanted to stay but needed to leave._

_“Unless, of course, it’s been so long that you’ve forgotten how?” Brooke’s goading decided it for him, as he pushed her back onto the bed, her triumphant smirk urging him on, as he crawled over her._

* * *

The sounds of  _ 'Peppa the Pig' _ and loud giggles coupled with the smell of coffee were all vital ingredients of a regular Saturday morning in the Amrull household. 

Violet had once again begrudgingly found herself in charge of the girls that morning, while her husband tried - and failed - at waking up in the AM on the weekend. 

What wasn’t a regular occurrence was the sight of her sister sitting in the kitchen, staring almost shell-shocked into a cup of black coffee, the heat from the beverage fogging up her glasses.

“Okay…” For once the words seemed to fail Violet. Maybe it was the fact that the caffeine hadn’t kicked in yet, or maybe it was the sheer ridiculousness of what Brooke had just told her, but Violet couldn’t stop herself from shaking her head at her sister.

_ What a mess. _

“I know.” Brooke rolled her eyes, seemingly at herself, while she took a sip of her coffee. 

The fact that Brooke looked put together in her jeans and sweater combo while her life was crumbling around her, was just another reason for her being the Perfect Hayhoe daughter, while Violet was the black sheep. 

Yet, looking her over, Violet couldn’t help but notice the cracks in the otherwise perfect exterior. 

The slight smudge of mascara under Brooke’s left eye, the lack of lipstick, and the messiness of her bun. 

It was almost jarring. 

“I mean, honestly, B,” Violet couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, “only you would rebound by having sex with your actual husband.” 

“Trust me. I do realise the irony that is my life.” The humourless laugh from Brooke was the perfect mix of heartbreaking and hilarious. 

If it had been anyone but her sister, Violet would have grabbed the popcorn to watch this car crash. 

“Jesus, Ookie. Your whole life is so fucked up that-” before she had a chance to finish her sentence, the door burst open and a flash of pink ran across the room.

“AUNTIE BROCCOLI!” Rose jumped into Brooke’s arms, Brooke catching her with a practised ease that shouldn’t be possible, given how long it’d been since she’d last seen the girls. 

Violet couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the way her daughter was clinging to Brooke. Those two had always had a special relationship. 

“Hi, Petal.” Brooke was softly running her hands through Rose’s hair, a small smile gracing her lips, her full focus placed on Rose, Violet completely forgotten. 

Rose leaned up and whispered into Brooke’s ear, while Violet leaned back against the counter. 

Seeing Brooke with children always left a bittersweet taste on Violet’s tongue. Maybe it was because she was a natural with them, understanding them in a way that Violet herself still had trouble with, even after having been a mother for seven years. 

Or maybe it was knowing that Brooke could’ve had this, that she’d been so close to getting it, only to have it ripped away from her at the last second. It was heartbreaking in a way that Violet couldn’t fathom.

_ Especially not at 9 AM on a Saturday.  _

“Yes, I’ve seen  _ 'Frozen' _ .” Brooke’s quiet voice made Violet smile as she caught her sister’s eyes, the sparkle there so different from the defeat that had been present only minutes before. “Sure, let’s go.” The loud giggle from Rose as Brooke lifted her, so they could go to what Violet assumed was her daughter’s room, was a balm for her heart. 

However, the moment Brooke turned her back and left the kitchen, Violet felt her smile fall. 

_ Fuck.  _

She had always known that Brooke’s life was a mess on more levels than should be possible, but  _ this _ was something else. 

_ Jesus.  _

Violet had been seconds away from simply leaving the house just so she could track down her brother-in-law and kill him, not caring that it was Saturday morning and that she was still in her yoga pants. 

But after Brooke had explained that they had both been drunk idiots, she had calmed down enough to stay put and drink her coffee. 

Although her hands were still itching to slap that smug bastard once or twice. 

_ He deserved it. _

“Am I still sleeping or did I just see your sister with Rose?” Violet felt her whole body softening at the sound of her husband’s voice. Sutan was leaning against the door frame, rubbing his eyes, while his grey hair was ruffled from sleep.

“Yeah, she had an emergency.” Violet turned around to open the cupboard, grabbing a coffee cup, before once again facing Sutan. “She had sex with Patrick last night, so she’s feeling just a tiny bit frazzled.” The slow widening of his eyes as he took in the information almost made Violet laugh out loud. 

“I’m going to need coffee for this, lovely eyes.”

* * *

_“So…” Brooke winced at the croak in her voice - the word sounding less assured and more anxious than she wanted it to. _

_After the initial surprise followed by extreme horror at the presence of Patrick in her bed, the memories of the prior night had hit her like a freight train. _

_They had been idiots. _

_And worst of all? _

_The sex had been really good. _

_“Yeah.” Patrick was staring into his flat white, Brooke hating that she still knew how to make it to perfection even after three years of living apart. _

_Brooke was still only wearing the bathrobe she had quickly donned after waking up, while Patrick had put his suit back on. _

_For some reason, she found herself more annoyed with the creases present in his otherwise pristine 2015 fall collection Giorgio Armani suit, than the fact that they’d had sex. _

_Denial being a river in Egypt and all that. _

_“Should we talk about this?” Brooke couldn’t help but note the way Patrick’s hair was slightly ruffled, the brown locks so very far from his usual look. _

_It reminded her of Sunday mornings and late nights from a long time ago. _

_“Do we have to?” Brooke didn’t want to have this conversation, nor did she need to. “I mean, you’re the one with the mistress-turned-girlfriend, not me. So I don’t think I’ve got to explain this to anyone, whereas you...” Patrick’s eyes widened at the mentioning of Scarlet. _

_Trust him to have forgotten everything about her. _

_“So no hard feelings?” _

_“Pat. We were drunk, we had sex, and that’s it.” Despite the ashy taste of the words, she knew that her voice sounded untroubled, that her years of practice at being Perfect Brooke was making Patrick believe this specific brand of lies. _

_Brooke could feel her insides curling in on themselves, her stomach cramping up with all the anxious thoughts and emotions that she couldn’t let out right now. _

_It wasn’t about the sex._

_The good and amazing sex they’d had. _

_No, it was about the fact that Brooke felt like she had betrayed Vanessa. _

_Even now, a month after Vanessa had screamed at her, Brooke still felt tied to her, as if her every action had to be approved by her. _

_An idiotic thought, since Vanessa had made it perfectly clear that she would never want to deal with Brooke again. _

_Her hands gripped the coffee cup tighter, needing something to ground her as she felt herself fall into a spiral of thoughts that would end in tears. _

_She needed a distraction. _

_“Didn’t you have a meeting in Albany today?” Her question had the desired effect as Patrick instantly looked panicked, searching for his phone._

_“Fuck. Shit, Steve is probably already waiting at the penthouse.” Brooke’s eyes trailed over the dark blue suit, while Patrick found his phone and clearly made to call Steve. _

_Steve was not going to be impressed. _

_A dark stain on the sleeve of the jacket caught Brooke’s attention, everything fading away as her eyes zeroed in the slight imperfection. _

_There was no way that he could leave in that suit. _

_“Yes, I said Brooke’s place, Steve-” _

_“Pat?” Patrick looked at her questioningly, before he rolled his eyes at whatever Steve was saying. _

_Brooke could only imagine. _

_“Just get here.” Hanging up, he turned his focus to her, a single brow raised his eyes. “Yeah?” _

_“I have the black 2012 Versace suit in my closet, please go and put it on.” His eyes turned confused and Brooke wanted to groan, as she motioned towards his dirty suit. “There is no way I am letting my husband go to a meeting with a wine stain on his sleeve.” _

_“Why do you have a spare suit?” _

_“Because I thought it might come in handy at some point.”_

* * *

The high pitched creaking of the swivel chair coupled with Asia’s searching expression made for a flavourful combo. 

Not that Vanjie gave a damn about Asia’s opinion. 

_Not today. _

That morning, she had woken up with a plan, and she was going to turn it into real-life like it she was Pinocchio and Asia was the goddamn fairy. 

“Vanjie, Baby. You sure about this?” Holding Vanjie’s long and dark locks that she gathered into a ponytail, Asia was almost staring a hole into Vanjie through the mirror, clearly expecting a bitch to change her mind. 

_Not that she was going to, no, ma’am. _

“I be sure, ready, and here, Mary. You get to cutting that hair pronto!” Vanjie clapped her hand under the flimsy black cape that Asia had carefully draped her in while listening to Vanjie’s vision for her hair. 

“I’ve never had a single person in this chair who did something to their hair as a result of some bullshit happening in their love life, and be happy about it.” The raised eyebrow did nothing to deter Vanjie. 

She _needed_ something new. 

Everything reminded her of Brooke, of what she’d done, and how stupid Vanjie had been to believe she could’ve had her '_Pretty Woman_' fantasy of a hot ass socialite saving her Harlem ass from the ghetto. 

“Them hoes ain’t Miss Vanjie. Now I know that I gon’ be looking hotter than a panini, so get chop-chopping like you a karate kid, Asia.” Vanjie narrowed her eyes, looking at Asia through the mirror, daring her to contradict her. 

Maybe it was the glare.

Or maybe it was the nervous and twitching energy that seemed to roll of Vanjie in heaps. 

Whatever it was, Asia wordlessly grabbed the scissor from the belt at her waist and simply cut off the long locks, the ponytail a thing of the past. 

“Sure, honey, whatever you need.” The sigh in her voice did nothing to stop the overwhelming sense of relief Vanjie felt at the sound of her hair hitting the floor.

* * *

_Vanjie was trying to shift through the mess on her floor, hoping to find her ratty and oversized t-shirt, so she could get ready to catch some z’s. _

_“Anyone ever told you that you look amazing?” The raspy voice made her turn around to look at the figure in her bed, her eyes instantly drawn to the beetle tattooed on Kameron’s neck. _

_On anyone else, it would’ve looked ridiculous, but this bitch made it look effortless and gorgeous. _

_“Ain’t nobody need to be tellin’ me, I know I be banging, hoe!” Vanjie cocked her hip and smirked at her, already feeling tempted to jump back into bed for a third round. _

_The sex had been amazing, everything that her drunk and rebounding ass needed._

_But here, hours later in the AM, she could feel the alcohol release her from its warm and forgetful embrace, thoughts of blonde hair and blue eyes returning with a vengeance that felt like a punch to the stomach. _

_“You’re adorable.” Kameron’s gaze followed her with an edge of want that would be so easy for Vanjie to fall into. _

_“And you’re leaving.” Vanjie tried to soften the blow with a smile, as she grabbed the silver dress from the floor, and threw in on the bed. Kameron just raised a single perfectly sculpted brow at her._

_“That was quick.” The smirk on her lips was so kissable that Vanjie had to look away, immediately falling on the t-shirt she was looking for. _

_She quickly put it on, before looking back at Kameron, who had risen from the bed, naked, with the dress in her hand. _

_“Mary, you hot, and you fucked me good, but imma need all my space to sleep.” Vanjie shrugged, hoping that she came off less rattled and instead cooler. _

_She tried hard to not think about how Brooke had casually thrown her out of her apartment in much the same way months prior. _

_Tried. _

_“Fair.” Kameron didn’t seem bothered as she put on her dress, searching for her heels. Vanjie had never been good at this part, usually more drunk when she threw people out. _

_So instead she walked away, leaving her own room to hide in the bathroom. She hoped that Kameron would be a veteran at this and get the hint, so they could avoid the awkward goodbyes. _

_Maybe that made her a bitch. _

_But Vanjie could feel her fingers shake, her body going into a panic mode. _

_The sex had been good. _

_Amazing, even. _

_But she couldn’t help but think about Brooke. _   
_Couldn’t help but wish for blonde hair, blue eyes and plump red lips. _

_It didn’t matter that Brooke was out spending the evening with her fucking pasty ass lawyer of a husband. _

_Didn’t matter that Brooke was a bitch that had torn her heart into 500 pieces. _

_She still wanted her. _

_Fuck. _

_The sound of the front door closing echoed all the way into the bathroom, making Vanjie look at her reflection in the mirror. _

_“What you doing, Miss Vanjie?”_

* * *

The sound of the clock in Nina’s office was, coupled with her fingers tapping away on the keyboard, a soothing soundtrack for her Monday morning. 

She couldn’t help but hum softly to herself, her body still overflowing with giddy energy after the weekend. 

She couldn’t believe that her and Monét had kissed, couldn’t believe that they’d finally moved on from their year-long flirting. It all felt too good to be true, and she had spent most of the weekend waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

Maybe it had been the alcohol, maybe Monét had been pressured into it be the girls, or maybe Nina had just completely misunderstood the whole evening. 

Except she had woken up Monday morning to a text on her phone that had managed to calm her anxious heart down a bit. 

> ** _Since we broke free from that stupid bet, what do you say to a date? Friday? - M_ **

Only for a moment, though. The prospect of going on an actual date with Monét almost too much for a fluff loving heart to handle. 

_There were 453 ways she could screw that up before they had even gotten to their mains. _

The quiet of the office was ruined as Brooke pushed open the door, slamming it behind her before she walked over and somehow managed to gracefully dump herself down into the chair in front of Nina. 

“And hello to you-” 

“I had sex with Patrick.” 

“-sunshine… I’m sorry, you did what?” Nina knew that her face was going through twenty different expressions per second, trying to make sense of the words, while Brooke determinedly looked away from her. “Have I travelled back to late 2016 or are you trying your hand at comedy? Because that is the only two ways that what you've just said would make any sense." 

But even as the words left her lips, Nina could see the truth in front of her. 

She noticed the way Brooke’s jaw was tensed, the redness underneath her eyes that even the best of concealers couldn’t cover, coupled with the way her hands were wringing against each other. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that we were just drunk idiots?” The slight wobble in her voice made Nina soften. Brooke smiling self-deprecatingly as she shrugged slightly.

“That sounds very on-brand for you two.” Having known Brooke and Patrick back in high school, she remembered too clearly how those two had a penchant for getting caught up in all kinds of trouble the moment the wine hit. 

_She had just hoped that those characteristics were a thing of the past. _

“It does, doesn’t it?” Brooke’s harsh laughter formed a knot deep within Nina’s stomach. “I can't figure out what the worst part is, though. That the sex was amazing or that I haven’t stopped feeling guilty ever since it happened?” Brooke was biting her lip as she looked into the distance. 

Nina wanted to hug her, wanted to do anything in her might to settle the self-hate that seemed to cover every inch of Brooke like a sticky film. 

“Guilty? Why would you fe-” Nina cut herself off, as she looked over Brooke one more time, feeling like an idiot for not noticing it earlier. “Vanjie?” 

_Of course. _

Seeing the way Brooke’s shoulders slumped further in on themselves was answer enough. 

“I… feel like I’ve cheated on her, even though we’re not even together anymore... “ Brooke trailed off, as she clearly tried to hold back tears, blinking rapidly before she smiled sadly at Nina. “I’m such a mess.” 

“I mean… Yes, you are.” Brooke’s small huffing laughter told Nina that she wasn’t offended, which spurred her on, “but have you ever thought about talking to her... Maybe explaining everything?” Brooke was already shaking her head before Nina had finished the sentence.

_Just as she had expected. _

“She made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with me, and, really. Who can blame her?” A single tear managed to escape Brooke’s strong hold on her own emotions, though she was quick to wipe it away before it fell from her cheek. 

Nina felt ready to leave work that instant and find Patrick - if not to slap him, then to yell at him for an hour or two. 

If nothing else, it would make her feel better. 

“Brooke…” Nina wanted to argue with Brooke, wanted to make her see that the impossibility of her life didn’t reflect on her as a person, but it was too late. 

Taking a deep breath Brooke had packed away all of her emotions behind the armour of her perfect makeup and those large glasses. 

Nina wanted to scream in frustration, hated that Brooke always deemed her own feelings unimportant, her self-deprecation used so often that it became a truth that lived deep inside her own heart. 

“It doesn’t matter. Enough about my mess. How’s Monét?”

* * *

There was a lull at the counter, Vanjie trying hard not to jump in the spot, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning, as she was counting down the minutes until her lunch break. 

She had walked past the Starbucks that morning, opting out of her Monday morning croissant, which meant that she hadn’t had anything to eat yet, her stomach growling louder than a middle-aged lady that wanted to speak with the manager. 

Vanjie tried hard to not blame Brooke for her missing out on her flaky pastry fantasy, but it wasn’t working. Everywhere Vanjie looked, she felt like she saw blonde hair and red lipstick - her heart instantly beating faster. 

“Vanjie, they just called up from downstairs, says we gots some stuff laying all over the floor at the storage thingy. You be a boo and go clear that shit up?” A’keria bumped her shoulder lightly, the smirk on her lips indicating that the bitch knew she had caught Vanjie daydreaming on the job. 

The idea of going down to the storage made her want to groan out loud. There were ten minutes until she could finally get something to eat, and there was no way that their mess downstairs would take less than that. 

But the raised eyebrow coupled with Kiki’s patented 'I’m the manager and you best do as I say' stare made Vanjie realise that she had no choice. 

“You got it, Keeks!” Vanjie knew the cheer in her voice was fake, as she turned around and started to make her way through the throngs of mommy bloggers, who seemed to be the only clientele hanging out around Bloomingdales at 11:50 AM on a Monday. 

She turned left and right, navigating the labyrinth of cosmetics and perfumes, grumbling softly to herself. 

It was so typical that she was the one that got sent downstairs. Vanjie knew that it was probably in part because she was the only person who didn’t get creeped out by the dark and cold basement that worked as storage for the whole floor

_But, shit. A bitch had to eat!_

Finally reaching her destination, she walked over to the elevator, pressing the button and wishing it would move faster, so she could hopefully get down to the canteen before all the good shit was gone. 

The doors opened with a loud ding, Vanjie walking inside, tapping her foot, willing the doors to close, so she could get on with this shitty assignment that she just knew Kiki had given her now instead of waiting until after lunch because she’d looked at her phone one too many times during her shift. 

_The hoe had even confiscated it. _

Just as the doors were about to close, a slim hand appeared, triggering the sensors, causing the metal to slide back. 

Vanjie’s annoyed groan at the wasted time lodged itself deep inside her throat as the doors revealed who was the cause of the delay. 

Brooke.

_Fucking perfect. _

She looked like a deer caught in the headlights of a truck, everything about her frozen as she looked horrified at Vanjie, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. 

If Vanjie hadn’t been so surprised, she would have laughed. 

Instead, she found her stomach turning in on itself, knots upon knots appearing, as she realised that this was the first time she had fully laid eyes on Brooke since she had stormed out of her apartment almost a month ago. 

_Fuck. _

“Mary, you goin’ in or out? Ain’t anybody gots time for you to decide.” She somehow found her voice, needing this awkward stand-off to end, so she could get on with her day. 

She could cry in the bathroom later. 

Brooke seemed to wake up from her frozen state, hurrying inside the elevator, standing as far away from Vanjie as possible. 

As the doors closed, Vanjie realised her mistake. 

If she thought standing on opposite sides of the elevator doors had been awkward, this was a whole new level of hell - standing inside a metal case no larger than her own bathroom trapped with her ex. 

She tried hard to not look over at Brooke, staring straight ahead and praying that they would reach their destination sooner, rather than later. 

But there wasn’t enough willpower to keep her from noticing the slump of Brooke’s shoulders, or the way her hands were clenched tightly. If Vanjie had to guess, she was sure that Brooke’s perfectly manicured nails were close to piercing her skin. 

_Bitch was nervous. _

A loud metallic sound was the only warning Vanjie got, as the elevator came to a sudden stop, the movement almost making her fall over herself, while the light went out.

_“Fuck.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 <3 <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fuck!” Vanjie’s voice echoed inside the small space, mixing with the sound of their startled breaths as everything else was quiet - the regular hum of the elevator terrifyingly absent. 
> 
> It was completely dark, disorientating her for a moment, as Vanjie leaned against the wall, willing herself to stay calm even though her pulse was galloping faster than a soccer mom at a sale. 
> 
> The elevator’s been down before. It ain’t no biggie. 
> 
> A weak groan from the other side instantly made Vanjie squint her eyes together, trying her damndest to see through the impenetrable black veil that had fallen over the metal casing that was apparently to be their mothershitting home for the time being. 
> 
> Brooke.
> 
> Vanjie couldn’t decide if life was being a bitch or a champ by locking her up in an elevator with her dreamboat turned Titanic nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's baaaaaaack?!

“Fuck!” Vanjie’s voice echoed inside the small space, mixing with the sound of their startled breaths as everything else was quiet - the regular hum of the elevator terrifyingly absent. 

It was completely dark, disorientating her for a moment, as Vanjie leaned against the wall, willing herself to stay calm even though her pulse was galloping faster than a soccer mom at a sale. 

_ The elevator’s been down before. It ain’t no biggie.  _

A weak groan from the other side instantly made Vanjie squint her eyes together, trying her damndest to see through the impenetrable black veil that had fallen over the metal casing that was apparently to be their mothershitting home for the time being. 

_ Brooke. _

Vanjie couldn’t decide if life was being a bitch or a champ by locking her up in an elevator with her dreamboat turned Titanic nightmare.

“Brooke? You good?” She wished that she didn’t care, but everything inside of her was itching to storm over and touch Brooke, ensure that she was okay. 

_ But she didn’t. _

“Yeah…” Vanjie hated that she couldn’t see Brooke’s face. Brooke was good at hiding her true feelings in daylight, the dark giving her an edge that made Vanjie bristle against the cold metal she was leaning against. 

“You got a phone on ya?” Vanjie cursed Kiki for having taken her phone earlier that day, the hoe having used her manager privileges to teach Vanjie a lesson.

_ Fucking karma.  _

“Yeah, I always have it-“ The sound of fabric rustling made Vanjie raise a single brow in confusion. “Shit. It’s at the desk. No, I don’t have it…” The single note of distress in Brooke’s voice did nothing to quiet down the rhino level panic that was building inside Vanjie’s body.

_ Fuck. _

Fumbling her way over to where she believed the door was, Vanjie slammed her hands against the metal, hoping to hit some sort of a panel. The moment her fingers hit the tacky plastic buttons she tried every one.

_ Nothing _ .

Her fingers just pressed harder. Smashing the buttons in the hope that the elevator would  _ just move. _

_ Nothing _ . 

Leaning her forehead against the panel, Vanjie took a deep breath, feeling the force of a scream preparing itself to leave her mouth. 

But she swallowed it down. There was no way that she would give Brooke the satisfaction of hearing her lose it. 

“Well, ain’t this just my fucking luck. Stuck in a faulty deathtrap, with no phone, no food, and…”

_ My fucking ex.  _

If you could even call her that. 

Vanjie slid down onto the floor, not caring that it was probably filled with shit, bacterias, and old ass dust, needing to feel grounded in the disorientating dark. 

Brooke was quiet.

_ Always prim and proper and so fucking perfect. _

If it wasn’t for the small stuttering breaths that came from the other side of the darkness, Vanjie would have thought that she was all alone inside this metal can of doom.

* * *

_ Brooke could feel the walls closing in as if the tiny tin can that they were stuck inside was pushing against her, slowly but surely crushing her. _

_ Every time she moved the metal touched her, letting her know that there was no way out. She was stuck there forever.  _

_ Looking straight ahead she saw, but couldn’t take in Patrick’s worried eyes, his mouth moving, but the words making no sense.  _

_ They were stuck here.  _

_ Her lungs felt useless, as if the air was thinner, diluted by the littleness of the carriage, the metal poisoning the oxygen until all that was left was nothing.  _

_ She tried to breathe harder, faster, gulping and gasping, hoping that somehow she would be able to just take in some air.  _

_ She couldn’t understand that Patrick was just standing there, normally.  _

_ Didn’t he feel dizzy? _

_ Didn’t he feel like he was dying, too?  _

_ Stuck there in a glorified metal can at a stupid museum they had gone to with the hope of escaping both of their parents and their wedding planning for an hour or two.  _

_ “Brooke Lynn…” _

_ She could feel her legs shaking, the way her whole body was trembling, seconds away from toppling down as the lack of oxygen seemed to take effect. _

_ “Brooke.” _

_ Her eyes couldn’t focus, couldn’t settle anywhere, flinging back and forth between the blinking panel and Patrick’s more and more desperate eyes, only to shift down to her palms.  _

_ Her hands were shaking.  _

_ Until suddenly strong hands covered her own, forcing her eyes to look up and be confronted with Patrick, who had closed the distance between them.  _

_ He pushed her down softly until she was sitting on the floor, her body malleable against the sheer terror that was coursing through her system.  _

_ “Follow my breathing.” The words made her look at his mouth, trying to mimic his calm breathing, coughing as her lungs protested against the slower rhythm, too used to fighting for every bit of oxygen to slow down. _

_ “Shh… I know. Just follow my breathing,”  _

_ She tried.  _

_ She really tried.  _

_ But her body was working against her, too far gone in the spiral of her panic to let her breathe.  _

_ “Come on, Lynn. Just in…” She tried to breathe in through her nose, the sound stuttering, as her chest expanded, sweet air almost filling her lungs before she released the breath too soon.  _

_ Tears were flowing down freely, but she didn’t care. She was dying.  _

_ “No, don’t give up. Let’s just try again…” _

_ And they did.  _

_ Again and again. _

_ Brooke gasping and gulping less and less as every breath became easier, though no less hard fought for.  _

_ Patrick patiently held her hands, sitting on the floor of the dirty elevator with her, simply breathing calmly.  _

_ “Sor-“ _

_ “Don’t apologise for a panic attack.” The raised eyebrow dared her to contradict him. _

_ “Sorry…” The word slipped out before she could stop herself, a habit so ingrained that it felt like a part of her DNA. _

_ “And now you’re apologising for apologising.” He sat down more comfortably on the floor, looking around the room with a small smirk gracing his lips, leaning casually against the metal as if this was an everyday occurrence. “So, who do we think will throw the bigger fit about their heir being stuck in an elevator - Bill Hayhoe or good ol’ Frank Hytes? - Gotta say, my money is on your pa, B.”  _

_ Brooke couldn’t stop a small laugh from escaping her lips, the image of their fathers panicking too ridiculous to even fathom.  _

_ “Your dad is already on the phone with the lawyers, trying to figure out a case for emotional damage.” Brooke could already see the vein popping on Frank’s forehead as he screamed into his phone, ready to raise Hell on Earth for his boy.  _

_ Catching Patrick’s eyes, it was clear that he was imagining the same thing.  _

_ Their laughter reverberated off of the walls in a cacophony of sound.  _

* * *

“Really. You ain’t gon’ say shit?” Vanessa’s voice bounced off the walls like a tennis ball, echoing in the dark, making Brooke jump in surprise at the sudden sound, as she sat with her back against the unbending metal. 

She didn’t know how long they had been sitting in the dark, not speaking - merely breathing and waiting. 

Waiting for the light to turn on, for their colleagues to figure out they were missing. 

For  _ something.  _

Brooke felt her anxiety crawling underneath her skin like, scurrying along like a dozen spiders. Being this close to Vanessa again after having done everything in her might to avoid her, was too much, too soon.

_ “If you ever talk to me again, I won’t hesitate to call this Del Rio bitch and tell her everything.”  _

Brooke could still remember the anger in Vanessa’s eyes as she yelled those words, could still see each individual tear falling down her cheeks as she’d flung the threat at Brooke. 

Being stuck in an elevator clearly didn’t count, though. 

“What do you want me to say?” Brooke’s voice cracked, betraying her nervousness of sitting there, in an elevator with Vanessa. 

Her brain was going 100 miles a second, going through all the ways they could die inside this metal cage of hell.

_ The metal strings holding the cage severing, both of them crashing towards their death. Or maybe the air would run out, both of them gasping, trying to capture the last bit of oxygen-  _

But she kept on breathing, forcing herself to remember everything that Dr. Miller had taught her when she’d worked with her after that time Patrick and her had gotten stuck in an elevator for four hours. 

_ It was getting more and more difficult. _

“Bitch, you for real? How ‘bout, ‘ _ sorry I fucked you over _ ’ or ‘ _ I sure was a dumbass hoe for double-timing you _ ’?” Vanessa’s hard laugh made Brooke shrink in on herself, the words cutting deep. “Or maybe just start with an ‘ _ I’m sorry I made you believe that I lo-liked you _ ’.”

The near slip-up made Brooke lean forward, opening her eyes wider in the hope she would somehow be able to see Vanessa. 

But all that met her was the impenetrable darkness and the sound of Vanessa’s breathing. 

_ Lo-liked. _

The burst of hope that blossomed in her chest felt wrong - she would never get a second chance with Vanessa. 

Patrick wouldn’t let her, and neither would Vanessa. 

“I didn’t double time you.” The words left Brooke’s lips before she had a chance to think them through.

_ Idiot.  _

“Bitch. You married and you fucked me. That’s the definition of pure, grade-A double-timing. Like you a vintage hoe with your basic cheatin’ ass.” The tremble in Vanessa’s voice did nothing to untie the knot in Brooke’s stomach. “Don’t come here trying to weasel your way out of being  _ that  _ bitch. Cause you is and you be.” The conviction between those words covered Brooke in a blanket of truth, that no shower would ever be able to remove. 

“You’re right. I’m marrie-“ 

“For how much longer, though?” Brooke went on, ignoring Vanessa’s snide remark, realising that this would be her only chance at explaining the situation to her. 

“-but not really. Not in the sense that most people view a well-functioning marriage.” Brooke couldn’t keep herself from wincing at the words, everything inside of her recoiling at the mere notion that her and Patrick had a well-functioning anything at this point. 

“Uhuh?” Brooke knew that Vanessa was looking at her questioning. Knew that her brows would be raised softly, while she was biting her lip, trying and failing to keep herself from looking to interested. 

Not that Vanessa could hide anything. Her emotions were painted all over her skin, like she was a walking, talking original Monét. 

_ It was one of the many things she loved about her.  _

“Well, go on. Try explaining how this makes fucking me okay?” Vanessa’s hard tone brought Brooke back to reality, too caught up in her own image of Vanessa, to realise that the words were still trapped inside of her, held prisoner by her trembling lips. 

Swallowing down the sudden urge to throw up, she steeled herself, clenching her fists in preparation for a conversation that would do more harm than good, already fearing the aftermath, knowing it would involve copious amounts of wine to calm her nerves.

_ But Vanessa deserved the truth.  _

_ For her, she could beat reliving that pain. _

“We-Uhm… we haven’t been living together for two years.” Brooke’s heart clenched, saying the words out loud was more painful than she’d first imagined, the failure of their marriage still an open and bleeding wound. 

“Then why the fuck you still married?” Vanessa’s voice was cutting, her words harsh and fast. “I checked the Wiki, and your mister is a fine-looking man, all fancy-schmancy with his job in the city.” Brooke could imagine the hard look in her eyes, the way that her tiny fists would be balled up, ready to attack at any moment.

_ She couldn’t do this _ . 

“It’s… complicated.” 

Instant relief. Brooke was too used to hiding, telling half-truths and lying for the sake of others, to handle the vulnerability of actually presenting the truth.

It hurt her, laying herself bare in front of someone and letting them see the ugliness that was Brooke Lynn Hytes in her full and messy glory.

It was easier to just be a two-timing whore. 

_ Far easier than the actual truth.  _

“Well, fuck that. You owe me this. So you best get going and uncomplicate this shit right about now, Mary.” Vanessa’s hand banged down on the floor, making Brooke jump in shock. Her tone was sharp as a knife, 

“I-“ 

“No excuses. Tell me.” She was right. 

Even if what she was demanding seemed impossible to Brooke. 

_ She owed Vanessa this.  _

Taking a deep breath, Brooke tried to push down the feeling of  _ wrong  _ that was crawling all over her body. She wanted to scratch her arms, wanted to make it stop.

But she couldn’t.

Closing her eyes for a second, she gathered herself, willing her anxiety to stay put, so she could get through this. 

_ It could run rampant later. _

“Patrick and I met each other in high school.” Despite everything, Brooke couldn’t stop herself from smiling, the image of them as teenagers feeling more and more ridiculous as the years had gone by. “It was all very southern. We both come from old money. Those big and political families that everyone seemed to know. Parents playing bridge every other Thursday and all that.” Being a Hayhoe had always meant that everyone knew who you were, people nodded at you, talked at you with a familiarity that hadn’t been earned, simply because of her last name. 

“You big jar of mayo…” Brooke couldn’t stop herself from chuckling at Vanessa’s muttering. 

“Yeah. Church every Sunday. Honestly, we were what you would call quintessential Tennessean. Christian, Republican, and rich…” Brooke knew she came from a privileged background, had known it since the first time Nina had come by her parents’ house and called it a mansion.

_ To her, it had just always been home. _

“Uh-huh,” Vanessa’s detached humming echoed Nina’s tone from years ago. 

Brooke knew that if she spent too long focusing on that it would inevitably result in a panic attack. 

_ So she went on.  _

“Patrick wanted to study law, and I was still hoping for a chance of doing ballet professionally, so we moved to New York-” Vanessa cut her off before she even had a chance to truly begin her story, her angry tenor making Brooke freeze, the words stuck somewhere in her throat.

“I don’t give two shits about how y’all ended up together, or how happy it was. You said you been living apart for two years like that makes everything okay, so I need you to tell me why - Pronto!” Brooke understood Vanessa’s anger. Understood the question and why she wanted to know it. 

The answer, however - the true answer - was hidden so deep inside the most sacred part of Brooke’s heart, that she was afraid of what would happen if she dove down to find them. 

_ But she owed her.  _

“You know how some people just seem to know what they want with their life? How they  _ know  _ that they are going to be a lawyer, doctor, or a singer? I never had that with a job, never truly felt a calling to anything like that…” Brooke trailed off, trying to find the correct words for the next part. 

Her body felt alien. Maybe it was the darkness of the room or the heightening of her other senses, but Brooke almost felt like she was having an out-of-body experience. 

She knew what was happening. Knew what she was about to say. 

But her body wasn’t picking up on it. 

_ Yet. _

“But I knew. I just  _ knew  _ that I wanted, no, needed to become a mother. I had this yearning, this almost ancient call of motherhood that only grew louder with every year that passed.” The words felt like glass in her mouth. Brittle and sharp.

A phantom taste of blood on her tongue appeared as she forced herself to carry on. To utter these words that she hadn’t spoken out loud in years. 

“Seems like life had a different vision for me.”

* * *

_ Patrick closed the door sluggishly behind him as he wearily hung up his coat, tiredly rubbing his left shoulder to relieve some of the tension that had built up as he had been buried underneath piles and piles of paperwork.  _

_ Subpoenas, witness testimonies, and police logs had slowly turned his desk into a battlefield of post-it notes and markers.  _

_ He was happy to be home.  _

_ But… _

_ Home seemed to be a different type of battle at the moment. Far quieter and way more hurtful than any piece of paper could ever manage.  _

_ He walked slowly, advancing further into the eerily quiet penthouse. Traces of Brooke were everywhere, from a lipstick-marked coffee cup to the papers scattered all over the dining table.  _

_ The setting sun was casting an orange light over the whole living room, the colour making the room seem otherworldly, as if he had walked into a different dimension.  _

_ “Brooke Lynn?” The silence didn’t make sense, he knew that she was home tonight. “Honey?” His eyes searched the room until they fell on the open balcony door.  _

_ Of course.  _

_ He tried to look through the window to see what was keeping her out there, but the glare from the sun was almost blinding, making it impossible for him to see anything but an outline of her form.  _

_ Stepping outside, he was embraced by the warmth of the evening sun, the breeze lightly caressing his tired body, the smell of summertime, and… _

_ Oh.  _

_ Shit.  _

_ He stopped for a second. Swallowing against the lump that had instantly formed deep in his throat.  _

_ Patrick hated that he knew what all of this meant. Hated that he knew the routine, knew the feelings.  _

_ Hated that the regularity of this very moment had done nothing to dim the pain that always followed.  _

_ He walked up to Brooke, her back turned to him as she leaned against the rail on the balcony, looking out towards the beauty that was the skyline of New York during a sunset.  _

_ In her right hand was a half-smoked cigarette. _

_ He embraced her from behind, leaning his head on her shoulder as he stole the cigarette from her and took a long and deep drag from it.  _

_ The smoke burned his lungs in more ways than one.  _

_ “Hey.” Her voice was low, almost covered by the sound of their breaths mingling as they looked at the descending sun.  _

_ “Hi.” He wanted to say more, wanted to muster up some type of comforting word, but he had to follow her lead.  _

_ “Long day?” She stole back the cigarette, taking an almost reverent drag from it, before she turned around in his embrace, looking at him with those big blue eyes that told him everything he needed to know.  _

_ “Not any longer than yours.” He could feel the wry smile that followed his words as he tried to quelch the worry that was bubbling up inside of him at the sight of the dried tear tracks on Brooke’s cheeks.  _

_ A small smile graced her lips before she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on his lips. _

_ “I’ll go open a bottle of red, then.” And with those words, she broke from his embrace, stubbing the cigarette on the railing and then walking back inside. _

_ Patrick was frozen, trying to swallow back all the words that he wanted to say, but knew wouldn’t help.  _

_ There was no “we’ll try again” or “maybe next month” that would solve this.  _

_ Not after two years of going through this every single month.  _

_ Brooke wasn’t pregnant.  _

_ And there was nothing Patrick could do to make it hurt any less.  _

* * *

“For every month that went by and I still wasn’t pregnant it became harder and harder to bounce back. And we did everything. IVF, specialists, even looked at surgery. Nothing.” The words tasted like ash, her mouth dry as her fingers reached for a phantom cigarette.

Even now, years later, the pain of it felt real. 

Brooke could still remember how the hormone treatments had fucked her over. Her body and emotions had been a tangled mess of pain, tears, and sheer, utter panic. 

“I felt like a failure, like a lesser woman. I couldn’t even get pregnant - the one thing that my body was supposed to just do. I thought I was born to become a mother, but my body said a definite no.” And it had been her. Test after test after test proved that it was Brooke’s body that was broken - not Patrick's. 

The knowledge of that had been a double-edged sword. Knowing that her body was denying not only her but also Patrick, the one thing they wished for, was devastating.

_ Until. _

“Until suddenly… two lines. Every test I took had two lines. It felt too good to be true. After all those years of trying and of hurting, suddenly it was just… Two lines.” Brooke felt herself transcend away from the darkness of the elevator and into the memory of that day. 

Of the 10 different types of tests, all laid out in the bathroom, all positive.

Of Patrick’s face as she told him. 

Of the pure joy, she felt in every single cell of her body. 

Of the harsh crash of reality that hit her only a few hours later as she had realised that this was only the beginning. 

_ The finish line was far ahead. _

“I was… so scared. Too scared. I worried about everything. Micromanaged my diet to ensure that the baby always had all the nutrients that they needed. I made sure to exercise, but not too much. I went to more check-ups than I needed, read all the books, all the blogs. I was prepared and over-prepared.” She had been a mess. 

Violet had tried to calm her down, tried to help her, but Brooke’s anxiety had taken over, invading every single thought until there was nothing left but pure panic. 

_ Turned out her panic had - for once - actually been warranted. _

“But…” The cold of the floor drew Brooke back to the elevator, to the darkness and Vanessa’s quiet breathing. 

She could feel the vibration underneath her skin, the barely contained, but ever-present sorrow, that had become a silent companion in Brooke’s every move.

“It’s like those stories you read about people who’ve run marathons suddenly dying from a heart attack. These health freaks that have never ever smoked in their life suddenly succumbing to terminal lung cancer.” Brooke could feel the tears trying to force their way out. 

_ At least they were hidden from Vanessa.  _

“You can’t prepare for everything,” swallowing the lump in her throat she pushed on, “and neither could I.” 

* * *

_ Brooke felt off. _

_ And it wasn’t just because she was 9 months pregnant in the middle of a heatwave, trying to find comfort in an environment that was hell-bent on making that impossible.  _

_ Her body felt off.  _

_ Her back hurt, her chest was aching, and she felt warm in a way that seemed to have little to do with the weather.  _

_ Sitting on the couch in the living room, she was twisting and turning, trying to find a moment of respite, of comfort. _

_ Her right hand was splayed protectively over her bulging stomach, as she tried to feel for the calming movement of her daughter.  _

_ There was nothing like a kick to the kidney that seemed to quell Brooke’s worry. _

_ Except Lily had been quiet for hours.  _

_ And hours.  _

_ Which wasn’t that irregular. At least that was what her doctor had told her after the third phone call in three hours the first time it had happened months ago. _

_ But she had never been this quiet for this long.  _

_ Her silence was becoming louder with every moment that passed, as Brooke tried and failed to keep it together.  _

_ It was probably nothing.  _

_ The sudden sound of the door made Brooke look up at her husband, as he entered the living room, his rolled-up sleeves and haphazard hair betraying his hurry in getting home to her after she had called him up in a frenzy earlier.  _

_ “How are my two girls?” His worried eyes betrayed the soft smile and tone.  _

_ “Quiet.” Brooke pushed against the couch to get up and greet him, needing the comfort of his arms to hopefully settle her worry.  _

_ Yet, the moment she stood up, Brooke knew that she had made a mistake. _

_ The sudden rush of blood made her feel dizzy, her legs shaking underneath her weight, as the darkness closed in on her.  _

_ “BROOKE!” Patrick’s voice boomed out.  _

_ And then everything went black.  _

* * *

Somehow the tears managed to be kept at bay, her eyes dry and uncomfortable, even as the memory of Patrick’s yell felt like a stab to her heart. 

Her steadiness caught Brooke off-guard. It felt shameful that her coldness had even managed to penetrate this pain. Trust even this inhumane loss of hers to fall victim to her own defenses. 

Brooke’s tears were held hostage by a need to keep up appearances - even here, in a dark elevator caught somewhere between the first floor and the basement of Bloomingdales. 

_ Jesus, Brooke Lynn.  _

“I have trouble remembering anything after that. It’s all fragments.” Brooke’s own voice felt far away as if the words were spoken by someone else. 

Brooke knew that Vanessa was sitting mere meters away from her in the dark, but she couldn’t hear her breathing. Couldn’t hear any movements. The only noise that caught her attention was her own heartbeat.

How it kept on beating. 

Still.

Even though  _ hers  _ wasn’t.

“I remember Patrick’s eyes. How they seemed almost grey with worry. How he kept on trying to soothe me with smiles and kind words.” Even now, years later, Brooke could still remember how it hadn’t worked. 

How the pain had been suffocating her, and how those eyes had been the only anchor in a never-ending tsunami of terror. 

“I… Don’t really remember how we got to the hospital, how I ended up on the surgery table… I don’t even remember-” The crack in Brooke’s voice shouldn’t have shocked her, but it did. The rawness of it made her gulp against the sharp and cutting lump in her throat. 

“I-“ She could feel her lips quivering, the knowledge of the words that were about to leave them soul-crushing. “Patrick… I forced him to go with  _ her _ . Even if she wasn’t alive I… I couldn’t let them leave her alone, couldn’t-wouldn’t let them…” A small sob broke through her trembling lips.

She wanted to kick things, wanted to claw at her throat to make the words disappear. Brooke could feel her hands clenching and unclenching, desperately searching for something to hold on to and finding nothing. 

She was all alone.

“ _ She _ needed her dad.” Finally, the tears started falling, much in the same way that rain does. 

One. 

Two. 

All at once.

Brooke didn’t even bother wiping them away, the memory of Patrick’s heartbroken face, as he left the operating room, was forever edged into her mind. Like a scar on her soul that could never heal. 

“The moment he left, the alarms all went off.” Brooke could still hear the sirens of beeps - even now. “I don’t remember what the doctors said, I don’t… All I remember is the deep black darkness that I feel into.” And how it had enveloped her like an old friend. 

The sudden touch of a hand on her shoulder almost made her jump out of her skin. 

She hadn’t even heard Vanessa move, too caught up in her own memories to take any notice of her. 

“Jesus, B.” The soft quality of Vanessa’s voice almost undid her, as Brooke felt her sit down next to her. Vanessa’s small, warm and familiar body was an undeserving comfort.

“All I remember is waking up in a bed with Patrick holding my hand, and I just  _ knew. _ ” Brooke wanted to run from the next sentence, wanted to keep it inside her heart, and never give it a voice. 

_ Because maybe, just maybe, that would make it disappear.  _

But it was true, would always be true. No matter how much she screamed, kicked, and cried.

“Three minutes and 46 seconds. That was it. But they were the most important minutes of my life, and I can’t remember them, Ness… Can’t remember.” Even now, sitting on the hard floor of the elevator, Brooke felt like she was hitting a wall as she tried to find the file in her brain with those minutes.

_ Nothing.  _

Just the beeps of the heart monitor and the feeling of Patrick’s hand in hers. 

“Her whole life happened in those minutes, and I  _ cannot  _ remember them.” The wet and harsh laugh plummeted out of Brooke with a force that hurt, her head aching as she tried to catch a wisp of memory of a scream, a movement…  _ A life. _

There was nothing. 

“B…” The hopelessness in that single letter felt devastating, Brooke wanted to scream at the sorrow that tinted Vanessa’s normally warm and brazen voice. 

Brooke felt herself getting pulled in multiple directions as Vanessa’s hand started to carefully draw small figures across her hand. Brooke wanted to bask in it, wanted to forget that they were stuck in an elevator. 

Wanted to forget that they would never be together again. 

_ But she couldn’t.  _

_ She didn’t deserve to.  _

“I… The  _ one  _ thing - the only thing - I wanted in life, and I failed. And now, as a cruel and twisted joke of nature, I _ physically  _ cannot even attempt to do it again.” The pain of those words seemed to settle into the empty hollow of Brooke’s lower abdomen, where a part of her had been forcefully removed. 

Her free hand moved to cover her stomach, roaming over the fabric of her pencil skirt, trying to see if this would be the time that she could feel it. 

The emptiness.

The fraud. 

The hollow spot that once held the most sacred of all. 

_ Lily.  _

For a moment Brooke just sat on the floor, her head leaning against Vanessa’s shoulder while she felt the traces of figure eights being drawn on her hand. 

The tears kept on falling silently. 

* * *

_ The sound of the door opening did nothing to deter Brooke from her task as she carefully folded the clothes, her hands almost reverently gliding over the soft cotton before she placed it on top of the other identical and carefully stacked onesies.  _

_ Soft pinks, whites, greys, beiges, purples, greens, and blues.  _

_ Everything was colour coded. Carefully and meticulously laid out, before it was all to be packed into boxes and sent somewhere else.  _

_ Far away.  _

_ So some other child could wear them. _

_ Wriggle in them.  _

_ Live in them.  _

_ “Brooke?” Patrick’s tentative voice flowed through the apartment, betraying the worry that had taken over her husband ever since they had returned home from the hospital with their hands empty and hearts broken.  _

_ But it was too much, his worry felt suffocating - like it was trying to cover her in a blanket of comfort that she neither wanted nor deserved.  _

_ So instead she folded and folded.  _

_ Marvelling at the muted rainbow that was slowly covering what should have been the changing table.  _

_ The creak of the door was mere background noise, as she folded tiny socks and hats.  _

_ “Honey…” Brooke’s hands stopped for a second, waiting. Wanting him to envelope her in his arms, while also wishing that he would leave her alone. _

_ A slight tremor betrayed the turmoil that was raging deep inside of her, begging to be let out. To be felt. But she pushed it down, her fingers reaching for an impossibly small shirt, folding and folding.  _

_ “You don’t have to do that, Lynn.” His voice was quivering, sounding nothing like his usual put-together self. Brooke envied him for that.  _

_ Wished that she too could feel her pain as openly as he could.  _

_ But she didn’t deserve that.  _

_ “I know that,” her voice was steady, “but I want to.”  _

_ She never turned around to look at him, her eyes burning from the unshed tears in her eyes that only ever dared to fall after Patrick’s soft breathing disappeared from the room.  _

* * *

Brooke didn’t even realise that she had started sobbing out loud until she felt Vanessa’s hand on her cheek. 

“Mami, you gots to breathe, come on. I can’t have you hypeventi-ta-tilating on me in here.” Vanessa’s stumbling over the words made Brooke smile - even in her state of grief.

_ She had missed her. So much.  _

Yet, the joy at hearing her voice did nothing to stop the bursting dam of feelings that had escaped her tight control to escape her body, her breath hitching at the sheer force of the grief that was coursing through her veins. 

Brooke could imagine the way that Vanessa’s brows were pinched together in worry, the way her eyes would be roaming her face, trying to find the correct way to calm her down. 

All she saw was the darkness. 

“You gots to be visu-vis… you gots to see like a ball go up and down or something. ‘Spposed to help ya.” Vanessa started to breathe deeply, over exaggerating, clearly hoping that it would help Brooke slow down. 

Which it did. After a while. Her lungs screamed while her eyes stung as the tears kept on falling. 

“That’s right. In, out.” The hand on Brooke’s cheek softly wiped away the trails of tears, though they were quickly followed by a new batch.

Brooke wasn’t worthy of this comfort. 

As her breathing slowly calmed down, Vanessa’s hand fell away from her cheek, the absence of it almost painful, as Brooke realised this would probably be the last time she would be touched by her. 

_ You don’t deserve her.  _

They sat in silence for a while, time seeming non-existent within these four darkened metal walls. Yet, before the panic of what Brooke had unveiled truly had a chance at taking over her mind, Vanessa broke the silence. 

“B, I can’t even. That some real fucked up shit.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Explains the scar, tho. Always wanted to ask, but I ain’t one to judge a banana by its peel or anything, so…” Brooke couldn’t stop herself from laughing out loud at the words, the straightforwardness of Vanessa the perfect distraction.

_ Fuck, she had missed her.  _

“I wanted to tell you, I truly did.” Brooke wasn’t an idiot, she knew that Vanessa had clocked the scar ages ago, could tell by the way her hand would often run over the bumpy tissue, but there never seemed to be a correct time to tell her. “There was a lot of stuff I wanted to tell you.” 

“Like what?” 

_ I want you.  _

_ I love you. _

None of that could be said out loud. Not now, not ever. Brooke knew that her chance had passed by, foiled by her own inability to tell the truth when it mattered. 

It was  _ too  _ late. 

“No, really. Like what?” She could feel Vanessa leaning closer, the warmth from her body made the hair rise on Brooke’s arms. Her proximity coupled with her resolute tone feeling tantalizing in a way that was so very wrong.

_ And so very right.  _

“I wanted to…” Brooke could feel herself lean forward, unconsciously wetting her lips in a move she knew was stupid. 

_ Yet, she couldn’t stop herself.  _

“Yeah?” She could  _ feel _ Vanessa leaning in too, a huff of air gently caressing her face. 

_ It would be so easy to close the gap.  _

_ So easy. _

“I-” Yet, before Brooke had a chance to even think about how she was going to end that sentence, the lights suddenly shone brightly as the elevator began moving. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyoumissvanjie ending a chapter on a cliffhanger? It's more likely than you think.


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